


Get Out Alive

by Bow_Woww



Series: Kidnapping AU [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 6.5/10 on the dark scale, Abduction, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Dark, Grief/Mourning, Kidnapping, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mild Blood, Missing Persons, Moderate Violence, OC Character Death, Panic Attacks, Perceived Major Character Death, Psychological Trauma, like medium dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:34:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 86,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23917642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bow_Woww/pseuds/Bow_Woww
Summary: After Victor Nikiforov is abducted at the end of the Sochi banquet, the skating world is turned upside down. As the last person to see him alive, but too drunk to remember what happened, Katsuki Yuuri feels responsible for his idol's disappearance. With some help from the Russian Punk, Yuuri becomes obsessed with finding out what happened to Victor, but is he in too deep to see the danger lurking just out of sight?
Relationships: Christophe Giacometti & Katsuki Yuuri, Christophe Giacometti & Victor Nikiforov, Katsuki Yuuri & Victor Nikiforov, Katsuki Yuuri & Yuri Plisetsky, Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Phichit Chulanont & Katsuki Yuuri
Series: Kidnapping AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1889125
Comments: 134
Kudos: 152





	1. Missing

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. So, I've been working on this for a while and I'm about 80k in to a 2 part story. I really wanted to finish this before posting to keep a consistent upload schedule, but I've started to feel really nervous that no one will be interested in this story so I thought I'd put up the first chapter to see if people want me to keep going. Because this is kind of a lot of work and I don't necessarily want to keep working on it if there's no interest. 
> 
> I love crime/kidnapping aus, but I don't like torture porn so I tried to come up with something in between. That being said, please mind the tags. This chapter isn't bad, but there will be some violence and mortal peril later on, which I'll do my best to tag and put warnings in the chapter. Please let me know if I don't tag something correctly! Also, all I know about police work/crime is based on American tv shows (mainly Brooklyn 99), so I'm going to apologize for what I assume are massive inaccuracies. Pretend they're tv cops :)

Yuuri's head pounded and his mouth was tinged with the unpleasant combination of alcohol and bile. His body was achy and bruised from all of his falls, but that was nothing compared to the hollow feeling in his chest and the throbbing behind his eyes. He wasn't sure which pain was worse: the heartbreak of losing his childhood pet, the embarrassment of crashing and burning in front of his idol, or the massive hangover from the alcohol he didn't remember consuming. They were all swirling together inside of him to create one giant wave of misery and nausea. If only the scratchy sheets on the hotel bed would just devour him so he didn't have to face his coach. Or his family. Or anyone. 

Somewhere beneath the pain and the self-loathing, the logical part of Yuuri's brain knew he needed to get up to shower, pack, and prepare for his flight. However, the shooting pain when he opened his eyes to the bright light of the Sochi hotel room was making it difficult to convince his body to move. Maybe he should just lay here until the hotel staff kicked him out. Sure, his coach would come looking for him at some point, but if he refused to get up there wasn't much the man could do, right? After all, he was probably looking for any excuse to dump Yuuri after his horrendous performance. He should just save Celestino the trouble and stay behind. Becoming a Russian hermit didn't seem so bad compared to the disgrace of returning to skating after such a disappointing performance. 

To make matters worse, a different kind of head pain had him hissing in discomfort as he shifted on his pillows. Without opening his eyes, Yuuri reached around to the back of his head, feeling a sizable lump. He hissed again as his fingers rubbed over the bump, which felt crusted with blood. He must have fallen or bumped into something in his drunken state. Just one more thing for him to deal with. 

As Yuuri was contemplating the best way to avoid his problems, he heard a frantic pounding at his door that nearly matched the pounding in his head. Groaning and throwing a pillow over his head, Yuuri willed the person on the other side of the door to go away and leave him to his wallowing. To his despair, the knocking only increased in volume and intensity when he didn't respond. 

"Yuuri! Are you in there? Please tell me you're in there!"

Celestino's voice sounded panicked from the hall, the pace of his knocking increasing again. He was probably here to tell Yuuri he was fleeing the country in shame, due to his student's disgrace. Yuuri groaned again, still unwilling to leave the sheets he was cocooned in. 

"Yuuri, please, if you're in there, open the door!" 

His coach seemed unwilling to back down, so Yuuri made an effort to drag himself out of the bed, pulling the sheets along with him as he struggled to sit up and swing his feet over the side of the bed. As soon as his feet hit the floor, an intense wave of nausea almost bowled him over. Yuuri groaned again, the nausea and bright light assaulting his systems. Fortunately, the wave passed and he shakily stood up, wobbling from the bed to the nearest wall so he could hold himself up. Everything was fuzzy without his glasses on a good day, but the nausea was also making his head spin.

The pounding and shouts of his name never ceased as Yuuri dragged himself closer to the door, stopping himself every few feet to groan in pain and make sure he wasn't about to projectile vomit. Finally, he reached the door and pulled it open with an irritated grumble, revealing his coach wide eyed on the other side. 

Celestino looked frantic, but he let out a sigh of relief as his eyes fell on his student. Yuuri wasn't sure why, as he knew he looked like a mess. He was wearing nothing but his boxers, his whole body felt clammy with sweat, and he knew his hair had to be sticking in every direction. 

"Oh thank god you're ok. I was worried when you didn't answer your phone." Celestino placed his hands on Yuuri's shoulders, and for a moment Yuuri thought his coach was going to hug him. He really hoped he didn’t, he was way too hungover, and way too underdressed. If he hadn’t been so nauseous, he might feel weirder about standing in front of his coach in nothing but his boxers. But, he was far too miserable to focus on that detail. 

"I don't know about ok..." Yuuri mumbled, squinting to focus better on Celestino's form. 

"You do look pretty terrible but..." Celestino's hands were shaking on Yuuri's shoulders, and even without his glasses, Yuuri could tell the man was incredibly nervous. Yuuri had never seen his coach look so distraught before. He knew his performance had been bad, but usually Celestino wasn't this vocal about his disappointment. 

"Coach?" His stomach felt like a knot, and it wasn't just because of the hangover. Something was very wrong.

Celestino took in a heavy breath, then gently guided Yuuri back into his room, closing the door behind him. "I think you'd better sit down for this." 

Yuuri gulped, swallowing down the bile that kept threatening to creep up. The tension was not helping with the nausea or the dizziness, and he was thankful for the opportunity to get off his feet. Even through his mental fog and blurred vision, Yuuri could tell Celestino looked incredibly troubled. He wasn't sure what the man was going to say, but he assumed it was something about his performance.  _ The JSF no longer wants to associate with you. I no longer want to coach you. Your family called and said they want to disown you.  _ Worse case scenarios filtered through Yuuri's mind, each worse than the last, but nothing could have prepared him for what Celestino told him next. 

"Yuuri...it's Victor Nikiforov. He's been abducted...or worse." 

Yuuri's mind went blank for a moment, then the nausea hit him full force. Leaping up from the bed, Yuuri pushed past Celestino and darted into the bathroom and over to the toilet. As he heaved and sobbed, he was vaguely aware of his coach attempting to pat him soothingly on the back and muttering comforting words. 

_ Victor. Abducted. Worse. _ The words kept swirling around in his brain, and Yuuri heaved again. Tears stung his eyes as his stomach seized violently, the acrid smell of vomit filling the room. 

As his stomach finally settled, Yuuri shakily accepted the glass of water his coach had acquired from somewhere. He gingerly sipped at the cool liquid, sitting up against the wall next to the toilet. It felt like lead in his stomach, but Celestino motioned to him to finish the drink anyway. Yuuri closed his eyes as he forced the water down, hoping it would make the nightmare disappear.

Yuuri took a shuddering breath, squeezing his eyes shut tighter. He opened his mouth to ask his coach what was going on, but the only sound that came out was a pained whine. Between the hangover and the disbelief, he couldn't form the words he needed.

Fortunately, Celestino seemed to understand what Yuuri was trying to do. "Victor never made it back to his room after the banquet last night," he stated solemnly. 

Prying his eyes open, Yuuri tried to read his coach for any signs that he was lying. He didn't know why Celestino would make this up, but a sick joke would be better than the horrific truth. Yuuri couldn't read any signs of deception in his coach's blurry form, the older man's shoulders sagging and an obvious frown on his face. 

With a raspy voice, Yuuri asked, "What if he just spent the night with another skater? How do they know he's actually missing?" 

Celestino made a face, but Yuuri couldn't read his expression without his glasses. "Yuuri, what do you remember about the banquet last night?" 

Yuuri winced, gears turning in his brain to try and come up with memories of the previous night. He could remember feeling ashamed, and drinking. Lots of drinking. "Um. Alcohol. I drank a lot. I don't remember anything else specific." 

Celestino's blurry form nodded. "I feared as much. That's going to complicate things."

"What do you mean?"

Sighing, Celestino gently removed the glass from Yuuri's grasp, setting it aside. "Victor left the banquet early with you. You were the last person that he was seen with." 

Yuuri tried to form words, but was hit with another intense wave of nausea. He rolled back over to the toilet, retching over the cold porcelain. There was nothing left in his stomach, but that didn't stop his body from spasming painfully as a combination of strong emotions and residual nausea permeated his body. 

When the retching finally stopped, Yuuri pitifully looked over at his coach. "I would never do anything to hurt Victor," he rasped. 

Celestino sighed and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "I know, Yuuri. I know you would never hurt anyone. However, as the last known person to have seen him, there are bound to be questions." 

Yuuri groaned. "I don't think I can answer any questions. I don't remember anything. I have no idea why Victor would even be hanging around with a loser like me."

The hand on Yuuri's shoulder squeezed a little harder. "You're not a loser, Yuuri. I know this competition didn't go like you wanted, but that doesn't make you a loser, or a failure, or whatever other self-deprecating label I'm sure you've used. You're still the sixth best skater in the world, don't forget that." 

Yuuri didn't respond for a few moments, unsure about what to say to his coach's encouraging comments. With Celestino's words in the air, Yuuri could almost forget about what else they had been discussing. He could pretend that it was just his coach comforting him after a bad competition. 

If only that were the case.  _ Victor. Abducted. Worse. _

Tears started to gather in Yuuri's eyes as the reality of the situation hit him again. Victor Nikiforov, 4 time World champion, 5 time Grand Prix gold medalist, Living Legend of men's figure skating, and Yuuri's childhood crush/idol, was missing. He didn't know anything about the situation, other than what Celestino had mentioned, but he could only guess that it was bad. His coach wouldn't have appeared so terrified and frantic at his door otherwise. 

This, on top of everything, was too much, and Yuuri couldn’t stop the tears from flowing over. He didn't know Victor personally, but he had looked up to the man for the last decade of his life. Victor's face was plastered all over his wall, and his entire skating career was dedicated to becoming competent enough to meet the Russian skater on the ice as equals. Yuuri couldn't imagine not seeing Victor's flirty winks or breathtaking programs anymore. He couldn't imagine not having the chance to tell his idol how much Yuuri had been inspired by him.

Yuuri blindly reached out to paw at the roll of toilet paper as fat tears trickled down his cheeks. He managed to grab a chunk of toilet paper without uncurling himself from his position on the floor and used it to blow his nose and dab at the tears spilling out of his eyes. 

As Yuuri wiped his eyes, Celestino seemed to take it as a sign to speak again. "I'm so sorry, I know how much you look up to Victor. His abduction, on top of everything else this weekend, must be hard on you."

Yuuri winced as Celestino referenced Victor's disappearance again. Part of Yuuri just wanted to ignore what was happening and pretend that it was a bad dream, but he was too curious not to ask for more details. "I don't understand. What happened? Why do they think he's missing?" 

"Like I said, he apparently never made it back to his room last night. His coach said the bed hadn't been slept in and all of his belongings were still there. The last time Yakov, or anyone, saw Victor was when he left the banquet to help you get back to your room. Apparently you were quite drunk." Celestino said the last sentence a little sheepishly. "I apologize, by the way, for leaving you in that state. I didn't realize how much you drank." 

Celestino took a deep breath before adding, "They also found blood in one of the stairwells. That raised the alarm so all of us coaches went to check in with our skaters. You were one of the only ones who didn't answer your phone, so I was afraid you were missing too."

Yuuri swallowed heavily. He wanted to ask if it looked like enough that Victor might be... _ No. I can't think about that.  _ He cleared the thought from his mind. "I'm sorry I worried you. I must've turned my phone off at some point. Or I just slept through it. I really haven't checked my phone today." 

"Don't apologize. I should have been keeping an eye on you. I never should have let you drink that much."

With a shrug, Yuuri replied, "It's not your fault. I was a mess yesterday."

"Still," Celestino insisted, "you were my responsibility, and I should have kept a closer eye on you. Especially considering that another skater was abducted right under all of our noses. I can't begin to tell you how relieved I am that you weren't taken too." He shook his head solemnly, looking shaken. 

Yuuri patted his arm in a comforting gesture, almost wanting to laugh at the sudden role reversal. Celestino didn't always understand what Yuuri needed, but he was a good coach, and a good man. Yuuri felt bad for worrying him. Celestino looked pale, with dark circles under his eyes and a haggard expression. This must be stressful for all the coaches, worrying about the skaters in their care. Some of the skaters here were minors, which would add a whole other level of worry. 

"Coach?" Celestino responded with a hum. "Is anyone else missing? Or just Victor?"

"As far as we know now, just Victor." Celestino responded. 

Yuuri nodded grimly. At least everyone else seemed to be safe. He couldn't help but wonder if Victor was targeted, or if he just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Victor was talented, successful, and rich, so it would make sense if he was taken for ransom or something. On the other hand, Yuuri couldn't imagine anyone wanting to hurt Victor. He was hard not to love, even if you were cheering for another country. Victor was always kind to his fans and competitors, and he donated a large amount of his winnings and sponsorship money to charity. Who could do such a thing to the Living Legend? 

Celestino cleared his throat, breaking Yuuri out of his sad musings. "You better get dressed and packed. I'm sure someone will have questions for you, so you should have your things ready to go in case we end up getting behind schedule."

It suddenly hit him again that he was apparently the last person to be seen with Victor. He could have been with Victor right before he was taken. If Yuuri had just gone back to his room on his own, maybe he would've been taken instead. Maybe Victor wouldn't have been taken at all if he had stayed at the banquet. If Yuuri hadn't gotten drunk and become such a mess, Victor wouldn't have had to leave with him. 

Yuuri gasped as the panic hit him full force.  _ It's my fault. He was out there because of me! If I hadn't gotten shit-faced, Victor wouldn't have been walking around the hotel at night.  _ He began to sob again, his breath coming out in shallow gasps. His thoughts kept spiraling, drowning out Celestino's worried words, until the only thing he could hear was his own erratic heartbeat pounding in his ears. 

Celestino was never good at handling Yuuri's panic attacks, so there was nothing to do but ride it out until it passed. It seemed to last forever, his mind producing an endless train of  _ your fault your fault your fault.  _ Eventually, his senses did come back to him, and he became aware of his coach awkwardly patting his arm, trying to soothe him with comforting words. 

Once his breathing was under control, he pulled away from his coach, refusing to look him in the eyes. "I need to get ready," he muttered. 

Celestino hesitated, before nodding and standing up from the kneeling position he had taken to comfort Yuuri. "Alright, I'll give you some space. Meet me down in the lobby when you're ready." He gave Yuuri one last pat on the back, before leaving the room. As soon as Yuuri heard the door click shut, he burst into tears again.

With watery eyes, Yuuri brushed his teeth, and jumped in the shower. He cried out in pain as the hot water made contact with the back of his head. He had forgotten about the lump. He must have taken a really bad fall while he was drunk. Yuuri made an effort to avoid letting that spot get hit directly with water or shampoo while he carefully rubbed away the dried blood he felt in his hair. Once he had washed away the grime of the previous day, Yuuri stepped out and dried off. He got dressed and attempted to make himself look relatively presentable, the world finally coming into view as he put his glasses on. He double checked that all of his belongings were packed away, then dug some Aspirin out of his bag. The water he took with the pill turned his stomach, but he managed to keep it down. Hopefully, that would help with the headache. Yuuri carefully ran his fingers over the bump on his head again, grimacing at the pain. He couldn’t even imagine what stupid thing he had done to earn that, but he couldn’t help but feel like he deserved it. Sighing, Yuuri scanned the room one more time, needing to stop and sit down multiple times to keep himself from puking. He zipped his suitcase, pushing the contents down so the suitcase would close. Usually he was much more organized than this, but it felt like bees were buzzing in his head so he couldn’t be bothered to care any more than he already was. 

Yuuri knew he couldn’t avoid going out in public forever, so after a final unnecessary sweep of the room to kill more time, he grabbed his suitcase and his gear bag and headed toward the door. He hesitated for a moment, half-expecting a line of reporters on the other side of the door, ready to drill him about what he was doing with Victor and what happened to the other skater. Thankfully, when he checked the peephole, the hallway looked empty. He tentatively opened the door, looking in both directions, feeling relieved when it was still mercifully vacant. Letting out the breath he was holding, Yuuri dragged his bags into the hallway, making his way to the elevator. He pressed the button and waited, biting his lip anxiously. When the elevator dinged and the door opened, it was unoccupied, much to Yuuri’s relief. He stepped in, dragged in his bags, and pressed the button for the hotel lobby. The elevator stopped halfway down, and Yuuri stiffened as the doors opened.

This time, Yuuri wasn’t so lucky, and the hallway was occupied. Yuuri immediately recognized Yuri Plisetsky, the junior gold medalist who had yelled at him in a bathroom the night before. Yuri seemed to recognize him as well, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. He didn’t get in right away, sticking an arm out to hold the door open. Yuri stared the older skater down, making Yuuri feel the need to take a step away from the angry teen, his back bumping the back of the elevator. 

Finally, Yuri snarled, “You!” 

“Me?” Yuuri questioned. 

Yuri eyed Yuuri up and down. “What the fuck happened last night? Where’s Victor?” 

Yuuri gulped. “You haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?” Yuri growled. 

“Um.” Yuuri really didn’t think it was his place to tell the younger skater what had happened to his rinkmate. He was actually quite surprised that Yuri didn’t know.

Stepping into the elevator, Yuri stomped up to Yuuri and stood on his tiptoes so they were at eye level. “I don’t care what kind of gross shit you two get up to on your own time, but you will  _ not _ be a distraction. Got it?” He scoffed. “I don’t know what Victor wants with a loser like you, anyway.” 

Yuuri swallowed hard. “Um,” he said again, and Yuri practically fumed. 

“Are you stupid or something? Or are you only capable of crying and one word sentences?” the teen snarled. 

The elevator had started moving shortly after Yuri entered, and it finally hit the ground floor and dinged. Yuri didn’t back down, still perched on his tiptoes and glaring at Yuuri. The door opened, and Yuuri’s eyes darted between the pissed off teenager and the open door. There was a lot of noise and activity in the lobby, and Yuuri could make out the sounds of his coach’s voice somewhere in the mix. 

Taking a deep breath, Yuuri replied, “You should talk to your coach.” 

Yuri grabbed the front of his sweater. “What the fuck does that mean? Just tell me where Victor is!” 

A throat cleared outside the door, and Yuuri’s eyes darted up and over Yuri’s shoulders. The teen released Yuuri, whipping around to turn his glare on whichever unfortunate person had decided to interrupt his interrogation. To Yuuri’s immense relief, Yuri’s coach was standing in front of the elevator, giving Yuri an impatient look. 

“Yura. Come here, I need to speak to you,” coach Yakov said carefully. 

With one last sneer at Yuuri, Yuri stomped out of the elevator. “Fine.” 

Yakov nodded curtly, before herding Yuri out of view. Yuuri sighed in relief and exited the elevator, swiveling his head to locate his coach. The lobby was full of skaters and coaches, but also uniformed officials that Yuuri assumed were police. A few officers were standing in front of the entrance, redirecting confused hotel guests and turning away anyone who didn’t have proof they were staying here. Fortunately, there didn’t seem to be any press around, but hotel employees were running around looking incredibly frazzled.

As Yuuri stepped out of the elevator, he heard the whispers start. People were definitely staring, and pointing. He recognized Christophe Giacometti, giving him a sad look from across the room. The Swiss skater was standing next to his coach, who was chatting with an officer. Chris looked like he wanted to approach Yuuri, and he started to take a step forward, but the officer said something and caught his attention. Chris shot one last look at Yuuri, then started responding to the officer, while his coach nodded along. 

Yuuri wasn’t sure what story the other skaters had been told, or how many of them knew that Yuuri was apparently the last person to have been seen with Victor. Celestino said they left the banquet together, which likely meant that any of the skaters that attended the banquet would have noticed. Victor was very hard not to notice, and surely him leaving with the last place loser from Japan would have been hot gossip. Did people think Yuuri had something to do with Victor’s disappearance? 

Before Yuuri had any more time to muse, a hand caught his arm, and Yuuri jumped in surprise. He turned quickly, and Celestino was looking at him apologetically. “Sorry to startle you. Some officers would like to speak to you.” His coach gestured to a few gruff looking officials staring at him impassively. 

Yuuri nodded, and followed his coach to the officers. “You are Yuri Katsuki?” One of them asked as they approached, his accent extremely thick. He pronounced Yuuri’s name like the junior gold medalist’s.

“Yes, that’s me,” Yuuri responded nervously. 

“Come with us.” The officers started walking toward a room off the main lobby that looked like some sort of conference hall. One of the officers held up a hand to pause Yuuri and Celestino. The door to the room opened and two other officers stepped out, followed by another person. Yuuri recognized Georgi Popovich immediately. He didn’t know the older skater, but he recognized him as one of Victor’s rinkmates. Georgi looked tense, his jaw clenched and his eyes darting around frantically. His eyes fell on Yuuri and widened in recognition, but he didn’t say anything. Yuuri could practically feel Georgi’s eyes on his back as he stepped into the room, directed by one of the officers. Celestino followed shortly behind him.

There was a woman sitting at one of the tables, her brow furrowed as she frantically scribbled notes. She was wearing a similar uniform to the officers that had escorted them in. She looked up at them, gesturing at the chairs in front of her. “Please sit,” she commanded, her voice not quite as accented as her associate’s. The woman had a stern, but not unkind face, and auburn hair twisted into a tight bun. 

Yuuri complied, and Celestino sat down next to him. He glanced at his coach nervously. A frown was plastered on the man’s face, but he didn’t look overly concerned. 

“My name is Elena Pavlova, I’ve been assigned as the head of the Nikiforov case. I just have some questions for you.” 

Yuuri’s stomach dropped at the phrasing. The “Nikiforov case” sounded like something out of a crime show. He swallowed hard. “Ok.” 

Celestino cleared his throat. “Ms. Pavlova--” 

“Elena is fine,” she interjected. 

“Elena. My student had nothing to do with this. You can ask any of the other skaters, Yuuri is kind, and quiet. He’s not capable of this kind of violence,” Celestino explained. 

Elena hummed contemplatively, flipping papers. “You are his coach?”

Celestino nodded. “Yes, Celestino Cialdini. Yuuri has been my student since he was 18.”

Elena made a note on a fresh sheet of paper then said, “What I have been told about Mr. Katsuki, is that he’s a loner. A recluse. And a long time fan of Mr. Nikiforov, some might even say an obsessed fan. You can see why we have some concerns.” 

Yuuri couldn’t even defend himself. It’s not like those things weren’t true. 

“Yuuri’s not--”

Elena cut him off again. “I will determine what Mr. Katsuki is or isn’t, Mr. Cialdini. Now, we are allowing you to stay with your student out of our own personal courtesy. Don’t make us regret it.”

Celestino didn’t respond, but shot Yuuri an apologetic look.

The officer turned to Yuuri, her gaze sharp. “Mr. Katsuki. Please recount what you remember about the night Mr. Nikiforov disappeared.”

Yuuri swallowed hard. “Um, I don’t really remember anything,” he admitted. 

Elena raised an eyebrow, then wrote down a couple more notes. “Go on.” 

“I got some...bad news from home and bombed my free skate. I was really upset, so I drank a lot at the banquet.” 

“Any details you remember might be useful.” 

Yuuri closed his eyes, thinking hard. “I remember getting to the banquet with my coach. He kept trying to get sponsors to talk to me, but they weren’t interested.” He opened his eyes, immediately regretting it when the first thing he saw was Elena’s contemplative stare. “Um, I started drinking right away. Champagne. I talked to a few people. Uh, Christophe Giacometti, he’s an old friend. And Sara Crispino, but her brother told me to go away. He’s, um, kind of protective.” 

Elena nodded along, taking notes on everything Yuuri was saying. “And where was Mr. Nikiforov during this?”   
  


Yuuri didn’t even have to think about that question. He had been aware of where Victor was all night, because he’d been avoiding him. “He was wandering around, talking to sponsors and other skaters. I didn’t talk to him. Or at least, I don’t remember that I did.” 

Elena shuffled through the papers. “I have multiple accounts that you were seen in close proximity to Mr. Nikiforov for the second half of the evening. Multiple attendees positively identified you associating with him. You were seen, and I quote, ‘dancing with, grinding on, and touching’ Mr. Nikiforov on multiple occasions. You were also seen…” she squinted at one of her notes, “pole dancing with Mr. Giacometti. You remember none of this?” 

Yuuri gaped at her. “I...what?” He was horrified. If it wasn’t a uniformed officer telling him what had happened, he wouldn’t believe it. “I...my dad gets blackout drunk. I guess I take after him. I don’t remember anything at all.” 

“So you don’t remember speaking to Mr. Nikiforov?” 

“No.” 

“Was that your first meeting with him?”

“Yes. Wait, no.”

Elena raised an eyebrow. “Please elaborate.” 

“I kind of met him the day before. Sort of. He offered me a photo,” Yuuri explained. 

“And?” Elena said impatiently. 

“Uh, nothing, really. I walked away.”

“Hm.” She continued to write down notes, and Yuuri found himself wondering what she could possibly be writing about such a brief interaction. She didn’t look up while she asked, “What do you remember after you left the banquet?”

“Nothing,” Yuuri said honestly. “I woke up this morning with an awful hangover and a bump on my head. I have no idea how I got to my room.” 

Elena put her pen down and folded her hands together, looking at Yuuri. “Mr. Katsuki, multiple skaters have told me you are rather...interested in Mr. Nikiforov’s skating. Can you tell me about this?”

He winced at her phrasing. “He’s my idol, that’s all.” 

“That’s all?” Elena parroted disbelievingly. 

Yuuri blushed. “I mean, I really look up to him, I have since I was 12. He’s the reason I started skating competitively in the first place. I wanted to be like him, to meet him on the ice as equals.” 

“So you would call yourself a fan?”

“Yes,” Yuuri agreed reluctantly. 

Elena studied him for a few moments, then wrote down even more notes. When she was done, she looked back at Yuuri. “Mr. Katsuki, you must understand how this looks. Mr. Nikiforov goes missing, multiple eye-witnesses report you making romantic advances on him, you are the last person to be seen with him, you  _ conveniently  _ don’t remember anything about his disappearance, and you are self-admittedly a fan of his.”

Yuuri swallowed hard. It really didn’t sound great when she put it like that. 

“We’re going to need to take you in for further questioning. We--” 

Elena was cut off as the door opened, and another officer entered. She rushed up to Elena, whispering something in her ear. Elena’s eyes widened, and she barked something in Russian at the two other officers. She stood up suddenly. “Mr. Katsuki, Mr. Cialdini, please excuse me for a moment. And don’t go anywhere,” she said firmly, following her colleague out the door. The two remaining officers stayed in place, keeping Yuuri and Celestino trapped in the room. 

Celestino turned to him as soon as Elena stepped out the door. “Yuuri--”

“Can you just call my family and tell them what’s going on?” He didn’t want to hear whatever reassurances his coach was going to make. 

The old coach sighed. “If it comes to that, I will. But don’t give up hope. You didn’t do anything wrong, they’ll have to see that.” 

Yuuri shrugged. He couldn’t remember anything about last night, for all he knew, he  _ did _ have something to do with Victor’s disappearance. “I’m just surprised they didn’t take me to a police station or something already.” He didn’t really know how police interrogations worked in Russia, but he guessed it wouldn’t be enjoyable.

“I overheard a few of them talking,” Celestino said quietly. “Apparently, someone leaked that Victor is missing and now there’s absolute chaos outside and on social media. All of the official skating organizations are making demands and the police are worried about causing an international incident if they’re caught arresting someone without any evidence.” 

“So I guess they’ve decided they have enough evidence to arrest me,” Yuuri mumbled. 

“Yuuri--”

“Please don’t,” Yuuri requested. 

Celestino sighed, but didn’t say anything else. They sat in silence, and Yuuri stewed in his misery, trying to avoid thinking about how devastated his family would be when they found out what happened. The traitorous part of his brain supplied, _At least I won’t have to see their disappointment_ _after that disaster of a performance._ Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t cry now. 

The silence continued, but Yuuri wasn’t sure how long it had been. He just kept breathing and squeezing his eyes shut, trying not to lose it. If he thought too much about how he was about to be arrested in a foreign country for the abduction of his idol, he’d probably have a panic attack. No, he’d  _ definitely _ have a panic attack. For now, he was just going to push all those emotions into a mental box, and try and keep it together until he was inevitably thrown into a dingy cell in a Russian prison. Hopefully he wouldn’t have a cellmate, so he could panic in peace. 

The door opened and snapped Yuuri out of his misery. Elena returned to the room, looking solemn. “Come with me,” she demanded, and Yuuri and Celestino jumped to their feet. 

They followed her down the hall, behind the front desk, and through another short hallway. There was an employee break room on one side, a set of bathrooms on the other, and a closed door in front of them. Elena gestured for them to keep following her, then opened the door. They stepped into a dark room, illuminated by a couple dozen sets of screens. It looked like a security room in a heist movie, but on a much smaller scale. Yuuri could see a screen for what he assumed was each floor, the lobby, the conference room they had been in, a few other rooms he couldn’t identify, and the stairwell. It was the monitor with the stairwell that seemed to have everyone’s attention. 

“We found footage from last night,” Elena explained, gesturing at the monitor. She nodded at the security guard, who pressed some keys and started the footage. 

The screen was in black and white, and it was extremely grainy, but Yuuri immediately recognized Victor and himself stepping in view of the camera. Yuuri was wobbling, holding onto Victor and nuzzling into his neck. With the poor quality of the video, Yuuri couldn’t tell what Victor’s expression was, but he assumed the other man must have been disgusted. Yuuri was practically falling all over him, teetering around like the sloppy drunk he was. Victor tried to pull Yuuri offscreen, where they had come from. Back to the banquet? To an elevator? Yuuri wasn’t sure, but he assumed that Victor wasn’t really interested in dragging his drunk ass up 6 flights of stairs. Drunk Yuuri had other ideas, stumbling over to the stairs and gesturing for Victor to follow him. The Yuuri on the screen was trying (and failing) to climb the steps, tripping and falling onto his knees over and over. Victor was just rushing over to him, when another figure stepped into the camera’s view. They were tall and lean, and wearing a dark mask, clothes, and gloves that obscured everything but their eyes. They moved quickly, coming up behind Victor and holding a towel over his face. Victor struggled, but the attacker reached around with their free arm and held Victor’s arms in place. Victor stopped moving fairly quickly, and the assailant held Victor up for a few moments, before gently lowering him to the ground, cradling his head carefully as they worked. At this point, even in his inebriated state, Yuuri seemed to realize something was wrong. He was waving his arms frantically on screen and trying to reach the attacker, but he kept stumbling. The attacker was able to easily sidestep away from Yuuri, before holding the towel up to Yuuri’s face as well. Yuuri struggled, but succumbed, just like Victor. Unlike Victor, however, the attacker stepped away as soon as Yuuri went limp, letting him fall to the ground. Yuuri winced as the back of his head hit the ground on screen. That explained why his head hurt, at least. And the blood. 

On screen, the attacker moved back to Victor, grabbing something from off screen. Yuuri squinted at the monitor, trying to figure out what it was. It must of been some kind of rope, though it was very blurry on screen, because the attacker was tying Victor’s hands and feet. Once Victor was bound, the attacker lifted Victor bridal style, stumbling backwards with the skater’s weight. They seemed to manage, though, taking tentative steps forward until they were off screen. The video was still playing, Yuuri’s limp body laying on the floor of the deserted stairwell. 

Celestino made a distressed noise. “Yuuri! Your head! We need to get you to a medic to make sure you don’t have a concussion!” 

Elena held her hand up. “I promise we can get Mr. Katsuki the medical care he needs, just wait a moment.” She turned toward the security guard. “Fast forward, please.” 

The guard complied, fast forwarding until the attacker reappeared on screen. They scooped Yuuri up, far less gently than Victor, and flung him over their shoulder. Then, the attacker ascended the stairs, clearly struggling with Yuuri’s weight. Yuuri would have been impressed with their strength and athleticism if he wasn’t watching his own unconscious body be carried around like a sack of potatoes by a criminal. The range of the camera didn’t quite reach up the stairs, but Elena pointed to another monitor, and the guard pressed a few keys, starting the video. Yuuri realized it was his own floor. The attacker appeared, still carrying Yuuri over their shoulder. They looked winded, stumbling every few steps as their knees buckled, but they made it to Yuuri’s door. They reached around in Yuuri’s suit jacket pockets, until they fished out his key. The attacker stepped into his room, then reappeared a few minutes later. On their way out, the attacker stopped and looked at the camera in the stairwell, and waved. Then, they disappeared, probably exiting through the side door in the stairwell. 

Yuuri was speechless, and shaking. He didn’t know what to process first, the fact that had  _ been there _ when Victor was abducted, that someone had knocked him unconscious and carried him to his room, that the attacker had  _ known _ which room was his, or that the attacker had undressed him down to his boxers before he left. 

Celestino seemed to be having the same conflicting thoughts. “Oh my god,” he muttered, looking shocked. 

“Does any of this look familiar?” Elena asked. 

Yuuri shook his head, still too shocked to speak. 

“You don’t recognize the attacker?” 

Yuuri shook his head again.

Elena made a frustrated noise. “Mr. Katsuki. Any information, and I mean  _ any _ could be helpful. It could mean the difference between life and death for Mr. Nikiforov.” 

Yuuri swallowed hard, but found his voice. “No, nothing looks familiar.” He closed his eyes and thought as hard as he could. “I don’t...I don’t remember any of this. I’m sorry.” 

The officer sighed. “I suppose that’s to be expected. Between the alcohol and that nasty fall you took, I’m not surprised. Still,” she pulled out a business card and scribbled something on it, “call this number if you remember anything, anything at all.” 

Yuuri took the card and nodded. 

“Is Yuuri still a suspect?” Celestino asked delicately.

Elena hesitated, but shook her head. “No. We may want to speak with the two of you again, but this video more than proves his innocence.” 

“Then let me take my student to get checked for a concussion,” Celestino said firmly. “As his coach, it is my duty to look out for his well-being, and I’m concerned about that fall he took.” 

Elena nodded. “Yes, you can both leave. If it were up to me, no one would leave the country until we had answers, but we’re not being given much of a choice,” she said bitterly. 

Yuuri jumped as Celestino gripped Yuuri’s shoulder. He smiled apologetically. “Sorry. I don’t know if we’ll be able to get out of here, considering the mess outside. I’ll work on getting in contact with the doctor that was onsite at the rink yesterday.”

Yuuri nodded numbly, letting Celestino guide him out of the security room. They walked down that same hall, past the front desk, and re-entered the lobby. Dozens of sets of eyes found them, the whispers starting again. Yuuri bit his lip, looking at the ground to avoid catching anyone’s eye. Celestino gripped his shoulder. 

“Christophe is a friend of yours, yes?”

“Yes,” Yuuri agreed.

“Good. I had him and his coach grab your luggage. Would you feel comfortable waiting with them while I locate a medic?” 

Yuuri nodded. “That’s fine.” Truthfully, he was a little nervous. Chris was an old friend from his junior days, but he was also Victor’s best friend. He might blame Yuuri for what happened. 

Oblivious to Yuuri’s struggle, Celestino guided him over to the Swiss skater. Chris was sitting in a lounge chair, frowning at a cup of tea in his hands. He looked up as Yuuri and Celestino approached, offering a small smile. 

“Christophe, would you mind staying with Yuuri for a while? I need to make some calls,” Celestino asked. 

“Of course,” Chris answered, gesturing to the empty chair beside him. “My flight isn’t until this evening, and my coach is making some calls as well.” 

Yuuri nervously sat down in the chair next to Chris, avoiding the other skater’s eyes. Celestino turned back to Yuuri. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Call me if you need to, but don’t go anywhere,” he said firmly.

Yuuri nodded in response. As soon as Celestino was out of sight, Chris turned to Yuuri. Yuuri braced himself for questions, for demands, but Chris only asked, “Are you alright?” 

Surprised, Yuuri’s head shot up. He had expected to hear many things from Chris, but concern for Yuuri was not one of them. “What?”

“Are you alright? You look quite shaken, and I know you had a rough day yesterday.” 

Yuuri laughed dryly. “I don’t think I’m the one you should be concerned about. Victor is your best friend, right?”

Chris nodded. “Yes, but I am capable of being concerned about two of my friends at the same time.” 

Yuuri sighed. “You shouldn’t be concerned about me. I don’t deserve your compassion.” 

Chris furrowed his eyebrows. “What?”

Yuuri clenched his fists, tears filling his eyes. “It’s my fault.” 

“What is?” 

“Victor. He’s missing because of me.” 

“Yuuri I highly doubt--” 

“I saw it!” Yuuri yelled far louder than he meant to. A bunch of heads swiveled in his direction, giving him and Chris questioning looks. Quieter, Yuuri said, “They just showed me the security footage. I saw what happened.” He probably shouldn’t be telling Chris this, but Yuuri didn’t care. He was Victor’s best friend, he deserved to know. If it was Phichit missing and someone tried to keep this information from him, he’d lose it. 

Chris’s eyes widened. “What happened?” he asked weakly.

Yuuri told him what he saw, leaning in and whispering so no one would overhear them. Once he had finished his story he said again, “It was my fault.” 

Chris was pale, and shaking. Yuuri had never seen him look so upset before. There were even tears in his eyes, that he frantically wiped away. It must be difficult hearing about something so awful happening to his best friend. “I fail to see how any of this is your fault,” Chris replied, his voice quivering. 

“He wouldn’t have been out there if it wasn’t for me. If I hadn’t gotten so drunk, he wouldn’t have had to walk me back.” Yuuri clenched his hands into fists. “I was there, and I couldn’t stop him from being taken. I didn’t do anything besides flail around like a drunken idiot.” 

Chris wiped at his red, teary eyes again, sniffling. “And if I had insisted on helping Victor walk you back to your room, maybe it wouldn’t have happened. If Victor’s coach forced him to stay at the banquet, maybe he’d still be here. If Victor’s rinkmates had let Yuri Plisetsky dump a bottle of champagne on you like he wanted to, maybe Victor would have left earlier with you and you would have missed the kidnapper all together.” Chris offered him a watery smile. “It’s no more your fault than it is mine, or coach Yakov’s, or Yuri’s. The only person responsible for this is the person that took Victor.” 

Yuuri shook his head, refusing to believe Chris’s words. It was different. Yuuri had been there, had seen the kidnapper, but he couldn’t remember anything about what happened. He was useless, and he was the reason Victor was out there in the first place. It didn’t matter what Chris said, or how many hypothetical situations he came up with, Yuuri knew the truth. It was his fault that Victor Nikiforov was missing.

“They’ll find him,” Chris said suddenly.

“You think so?” Yuuri asked quietly.

Chris nodded. “Absolutely. Victor is the most stubborn bastard I’ve ever met. He won’t let anyone keep him locked up somewhere.” 

“I hope you’re right.” 

They lapsed into a brief silence, before Chris whispered, “Thank you for telling me what happened.” 

Yuuri nodded. “If it was my best friend, I’d want to know. Maybe just...don’t spread it around? I doubt I was supposed to tell you.”   
  


“I swear I won’t tell anyone. I don’t want to get you in trouble, or do anything that could interfere with the investigation.” 

“Thanks, Chris.” 

“Of course, Yuuri. And if you need anything, just say the word,” Chris said genuinely.

“You too. I’m sure this must be hard on you.” 

Chris nodded. “It is. I hate to think that he’s out there, scared and alone but…” Chris covered his mouth to hold back a sob. “It’s better than the alternative.” 

Yuuri gulped. “Yeah.” He felt bad for not being able to offer more comfort, but he was barely holding it together himself. The day had been exhausting. He still felt sick, and his head was aching where he fell, and his emotions had been dragged around since he woke up. 

Suddenly, there was a commotion on the other side of the lobby. Yuuri craned his neck to see what was happening, and he could see Chris doing the same thing. Yakov Feltsman was leaning over a very distraught looking Yuri, gripping both of his shoulders, while Yuri snarled and pushed him away. 

“No!” Yuri yelled, his voice loud enough to hush all other conversations. “It’s not true, he’s just goofing off somewhere like he always is!” 

Yakov said something that Yuuri couldn’t hear, but it looked like he was trying to hush the teen. 

Yuri was not having it. “That stupid geezer owes me a routine! He’s not missing, he can’t be! He’s just...just…” Even from across the room, Yuuri could see the younger skater shaking. 

Elena and another pair of officers approached Yakov and Yuri, saying something to him that looked like it was supposed to be calming. Yuri just started screaming at her in Russian. Yuuri didn’t understand what the teen was saying, but judging by how red his coach got, it wasn’t nice. 

Yakov yelled something in return, steam practically spilling out of his ears. 

Elena said something else, gesturing back toward the room with the monitors. Yakov nodded, and made to follow her. Yuri was close on his heels. Yakov stopped, shaking his head and pointing back toward a group of the other Russian skaters. Yuri protested loudly, arguing with his coach. Both of them were yelling now, and although Yuuri still couldn’t understand the words, he could hear the desperation in Yuri’s voice. 

Before he was thinking about what he was doing, Yuuri stood up, ignoring a question from Chris, and speed-walked across the room. Yuri and Yakov were so busy arguing, they didn’t notice him until he was right next to them. They stopped, eyeing him curiously, and in Yuri’s case, with hostility. Elena looked suspicious, but she didn’t stop him from speaking to the pair. 

“Uh, Yuri. You can wait with me while your coach is busy, if you want.” Yuuri really didn’t know why he was offering, but he felt bad for the teen. Despite Chris’s words, he still felt responsible for Victor’s disappearance. If Yuri was upset, it was because of him. 

Yuri narrowed his eyes. “Why the fuck would I want to hang around with a pathetic cry-baby like you?” 

Yuuri rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I just thought--”

“That I needed to be babysat?” he snapped. “I don’t!” 

“No that’s not--”

“I don’t need you.” He growled through gritted teeth. 

Yuuri saw Yakov nodding to him behind Yuri. He disappeared down the hall with Elena, and Yuri was too busy snarling at Yuuri to notice. It hadn’t been intentional, but the old coach was using Yuuri as a distraction so he could slip away unnoticed. Yuri was going to be  _ pissed _ when he realized what had happened. 

“I know,” Yuuri finally said. 

Yuri was looking at him with so much contempt but underneath it, Yuuri could see his eyes shining with fear and confusion. He didn’t know Yuri, but he knew that this had to be a lot for a 14 year old kid. Yuuri had been following Victor, and by extension the Russian skating team, for years. He didn’t know any of their skaters as well as Victor, but he could recognize most of them, especially Yuri, who had climbed the ranks in the junior division at an unbelievable speed. Yuuri knew that Yuri had been training with Victor for years. No matter what his relationship was with the Living Legend, this must be a very difficult situation. 

“Then what the fuck do you want?”

Yuuri took a deep breath. “I just wanted to tell you, I won’t rest until Victor’s found.” The words surprised Yuuri, but he realized they were true. He was going to do whatever it took to find Victor. After all, he was responsible for this mess, so he had to fix it. 

“What do you care about him? He’s just a one night stand to you,” Yuri hissed. 

“That’s not, I mean, we didn’t--” he sighed heavily. “It’s my fault.” 

Yuri gaped at him. “What? What are you talking about?” 

“I was there when he was taken.” Yuuri clenched his jaw. “I was too drunk and stupid to do anything, I don’t even remember it.”

Yuri didn’t say anything, but his expression briefly flickered from pissed off to vulnerable. It only lasted a second before he was glaring at Yuuri again. But he didn’t interrupt, so Yuuri kept talking. “Nothing happened with me and Victor. I...I’ve always looked up to him. I started skating competitively because of him. I might not know him personally...but he’s important to me too.” He looked Yuri straight in the eye, trying to show he was being serious. “I don’t know what I can do, but I want to find him. I want to bring him home.” 

Yuri stared at him, considering. Then he held his hand out. “Give me your phone.”

“Excuse me?” 

“Didn’t you hear me? Give. Me. Your. Phone.” 

Yuuri did as he was asked, handing his phone over to Yuri. Yuri scoffed at his poodle-themed case. “God, no wonder that idiot was so hung up on you. Passcode?” 

Blushing, Yuuri typed in the numbers 2-5-1-2. 

Yuri raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?” He scoffed, but continued whatever he was doing. When he was done, he handed the phone back to Yuuri. “If you hear something, you call me. Got it?” 

Yuuri looked at his phone, blinking at his new contact. Yuri gave him his number. “Of course. I will.” 

Yuri nodded curtly. “Good.” He hesitated, then added, “He’s going to be alright. I know he will.” It was barely a whisper. 

“Are you two close?” 

Yuri wrinkled his nose. “God, no. That dumb drama queen is the biggest pain in the ass I’ve ever met.” He didn’t seem to be able to stop the corners of his mouth from twitching upward. 

Yuuri smiled in response. “I see.” 

Yuri sighed, then frowned at Yuuri. “Well, what are you still standing there for? Do you need me to hold your hand or something?” 

Yuuri chuckled, his first genuine laugh since Vicchan died. “No, I’m ok.” They wrapped up their conversation just in time. Yakov was returning, looking just as solemn as Yuuri and Celestino had after they saw the footage. He didn’t know what Yakov was going to tell Yuri, but he knew that he didn’t want to be here for it. He smiled at Yuri one last time, before turning away from the teen. “Take care, Yuri.” 

Yuri just huffed in response. Yuuri heard Yakov calling out to his student as he made his way back toward Chris. He was halfway across the lobby when Celestino intercepted him. “No one can get through the crowd outside,” he said irritably. “We’ll have to wait back until we’re in Detroit for you to see a doctor. So don’t fall asleep on the plane.” He sighed. “It was either that or go to a hospital and stay here longer, but I didn’t want to risk getting stuck here.” 

Yuuri glanced outside and sure enough, the crowd had grown. There were uniformed officers everywhere, trying to keep the crowd under control. Yuuri wasn’t even sure how  _ they  _ would get out to get to the airport. 

“How are you feeling?” 

Yuuri shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure. Still nauseous, and my head still hurts, but mostly I’m just exhausted.” 

“Understandable. When we get back, you’re taking a long break.” Celestino frowned. “We should consider pulling you out of Nationals, even taking the rest of the season off. This is a lot to deal with.”

Yuuri thought about it. He thought taking the rest of the season to get his life back together. It would certainly give him time to focus on trying to find out what happened to Victor. Maybe he could even go back home. It had been nearly 5 years since he’d seen his family, and he missed them terribly. 

The thought was appealing, but it was wrong. “No,” Yuuri said firmly. 

Celestino raised an eyebrow. “No?” 

“I need to compete at Nationals. And 4CC, and Worlds. And I need to win.” 

Celestino frowned at him. “I don’t understand. You told me yesterday you were thinking of retiring, I thought you’d be thrilled to take some time off?” 

Yuuri shook his head. “I can’t explain I just...I need to do better the rest of the season. For Victor.” 

“For Victor?” 

“To honor him. To show that he’s not forgotten.” He swallowed hard. “No matter what happens.” 

Celestino’s expression softened. “Yuuri. Finding Victor isn’t dependent on you winning gold medals.” 

“I know. But it’s important to me.” 

With a sigh, Celestino relented. “Alright. But only after the rink doctor clears you.” 

Yuuri nodded in approval. He was going to train harder than he ever had before. He was going to win at Nationals, then 4CC, then Worlds. He would win enough gold medals to make Victor proud, and while he did, he would find a way to bring the Living Legend home. 


	2. Obsession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri throws himself into practice, and into trying to find out what happened to Victor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for the feedback :) It seems like there's enough interest so I'm gonna finish this fic! I actually have both the beginning and end (of part 1) written, so there's only a bit in the middle to finish up. I'll try to get on a regular posting schedule as soon as I can!

It had been pure chaos from the moment Yuuri and Celestino stepped out of the hotel in Sochi to get to the airport. The crowds were so bad that they ended up being driven to the airport by the very same police officers that had taken them into the conference room before. People were shouting and waving at their car, holding pictures of Victor and signs that Yuuri couldn’t read. It just made Yuuri feel even more guilty, because all of these people were missing Victor because of him. They were all worried because Yuuri had been too drunk to keep Victor from being snatched from right under his nose. If they all knew…

Yuuri shuddered. He really didn’t want to think about how angry people would be if they found out what happened. Chris and Yuri had taken it surprisingly well, but that didn’t mean everyone would. He had seen the suspicious and judgemental stares from the other skaters, and he couldn’t help but wonder how long it would take for someone to leak details from the banquet. If the police had found it suspicious how he had been the last person to be seen with Victor, others probably would too. He would just have to make good on his promise to Yuri and bring Victor home.

Truthfully, Yuuri had no idea what he was going to do. He was about to fly across the world, away from where Victor had been taken, without any details of the case, or any knowledge on how to solve it. Phichit liked to watch creepy reality shows about real abduction and murder cases, maybe he would have some tips. Or maybe, he could find a way to remember what had happened at the banquet. Yuuri sighed, his fingers drumming on the window. This was a mess, and he had no idea how to clean it up. He kept hoping that Victor would just turn up somewhere, but his gut told him that wouldn’t happen. He’d seen the attack. It looked far too planned, and the attacker was far too calm. Yuuri had a bad feeling that Victor wouldn’t be easily found.

When they arrived at the airport, Yuuri and Celestino had to run to catch their flight. Celestino had spent so long trying (unsuccessfully) to convince a taxi to come pick them up that by the time Elena offered a ride from some of the other officers, they were already late. Yuuri was pretty sure you weren’t supposed to run when you had a potential concussion, and the jostling was definitely not helping the pain in his head or his nausea, but the alternative was getting stuck in Russia, so Yuuri gritted his teeth and ran as fast as he could to keep up with Celestino. They made it just in time. Some of the other passengers scoffed at them, judging them for being so late to board.

After their carry-ons were stowed overhead, Yuuri and Celestino collapsed into their seats. They were both panting, having run basically the entire length of the airport. Of course their gate was almost as far from where they had been dropped off as physically possible. Yuuri’s head was aching, and he squeezed his eyes shut to try and will the pain away. 

A hand on his arm made him jump. Yuuri opened his eyes, cursing himself for startling  _ again _ at his coach. Celestino just smiled gently. “Do you want any pain killers?”

Yuuri wasn’t sure if taking random pain killers was a good idea while he had a suspected concussion, but his head hurt so bad he didn’t care. He held out his hand, because nodding hurt too much. Celestino pulled a package out of the bag he stowed under the seat in front of him, popping out two pills and handing them to Yuuri. 

“Thanks,” Yuuri said weakly, grabbing his water bottle from his own pack so he could down the pills. 

“No problem. Just don’t fall asleep.”

“We’re going to be in transit for over 20 hours,” Yuuri reminded his coach.

“I know. But until we know you don’t have a concussion, you shouldn’t fall asleep,” Celestino reasoned. 

Yuuri sighed. This really didn’t seem like proper concussion management at all, but it wasn’t like he had a choice. It was better than being stuck in Sochi, anyway. For once, Yuuri was glad for his anxiety. It would make it really hard to sleep and in the meantime, he could think about what to do about Victor.

“I’ll stay up with you!” Celestino promised.

Yuuri rolled his eyes. His coach could fall asleep anywhere, anytime. There was no way he’d be able to stay up for such a long travel time. Yuuri gave him 3 hours before he nodded off. 

It ended up being 2.5 hours. Yuuri was halfway through the plane’s selection of  _ Brooklyn 99 _ , when Celestino drifted off, snoring loudly. Yuuri shook his head, happy to realize that the motion didn’t pain him too much. He paused the episode he was watching, partly because it was too hard to hear over his coach’s snoring, and partly because he was ready to start thinking about Victor. 

The first logical step was probably to map out the timeline. Yuuri closed his eyes, trying to picture the previous evening. He had dragged his feet getting to the banquet, and Celestino hadn’t been able to get him out of his room until after 7. He’d gone straight to the champagne tower and downed a couple of glasses before Celestino pulled him away to talk to sponsors. How long had he done that? It felt like it had gone on forever, but there hadn’t been that many sponsors trying to talk to him, so it couldn’t have been too long. Maybe it had been an hour? Or two? But when did he see Victor for the first time that night? He remembered seeing Victor laughing at something Chris said, but he didn’t know what time it was. Halfway through the second boring sponsor schmoozing, maybe. Or had it been while he was talking to the first sponsor?

Yuuri groaned. This was going to be harder than he thought. He spent the rest of the plane ride trying to put events in order, but there were too many gaps. He ended up giving up just before they began their descent, when Yuuri had to shake Celestino awake to get him to put his seatbelt on. 

The rest of their travel time was equally unproductive, and Yuuri found himself back in Detroit without any new leads or information. All he wanted to do was go home and rest, but Celestino was dragging him to the nearest emergency clinic as soon as they stepped out of the airport. They met up with the rink’s doctor there, and both she and the on-site doctor chastised the pair for waiting so long to have Yuuri seen. 

He could barely stay awake, even as they shined lights into his eyes and examined the wound on his head. Of course, Celestino had to explain what happened, and Yuuri suppressed a wave of nausea as he heard the story again. It wasn’t getting any easier to hear about what happened to Victor. 

Fortunately, after a thorough physical examination and a clear MRI, both Yuuri and Celestino were relieved to hear he didn’t have a concussion. Regardless, Yuuri was still put on a brief period of rest to let the wound heal and to be safe. 

Yuuri protested, “But Nationals are only a few weeks away! I can’t take time off now!’

Celestino huffed. “Your health comes first. If I see you on the ice before the doctor clears you, I’m pulling you from Nationals. Understand?” 

“Yes coach,” Yuuri relented. 

“Good. I’m going to have Phichit keep an eye on you, so don’t try anything,” he threatened. 

Celestino knew him too well. He would have definitely tried to sneak out to the rink, despite his coach’s orders. Phichit would  _ never _ let him get away with it though. He was a remarkably light sleeper, so even if Yuuri tried to sneak out late, Phichit would notice. Plus, he would grill Yuuri on where he’d been, and he always knew when Yuuri was lying. There was no point in resisting when Phichit was involved, and Celestino knew it. 

The Italian coach must have noticed Yuuri’s forlorn expression, because he patted him reassuringly on the shoulder and said, “Look. You’re the top skater in Japan, and no one is near your level. Even if you take some time off, you’re still in good shape to win.”

Yuuri disagreed, based on his horrendous performance at the GPF, but he just mumbled a brief “thanks” to avoid a lecture, and promised to take it easy. On the bright side, he could focus on Victor for a while. He was pretty sure he heard somewhere, probably on a TV show, that the first 48 hours of a case were critical. He’d basically lost all that time to travel, so he needed to work hard to make up for what he’d lost. 

They didn’t speak again until Celestino dropped Yuuri off at his apartment, and even then it was only a brief “goodnight.” Yuuri nodded to his coach, exiting the cab and retrieving his bags. He dragged his luggage and skate gear into the elevator. He felt dead on his feet after the emotional exhaustion and travel of the past day and a half. That’s why, when he unlocked the door and let himself into the apartment, he barely managed to stay on his feet when his over-excitable roommate launched at him from across the room.

“Yuuri!” Phichit exclaimed as he slammed into the older skater. 

Stumbling, Yuuri lost his grip on his luggage. “Uh, Phichit. Air.” He wheezed as his best friend squeezed him.

Phichit released him, stepping back sheepishly. He pushed the door closed behind Yuuri, then ushered him further into their living room. “Are you ok?” he asked, guiding Yuuri to the couch and producing a mug of steaming tea. Phichit seemed to have some magic power that he always had tea ready when Yuuri needed it.

It was a difficult question to answer. Yuuri didn’t know if Phichit was referring to the loss of his longtime companion, his horrendous performance at the GPF, Victor’s abduction, or the throbbing bump on his head. So, he just answered, “Um.” 

Phichit nodded sympathetically, seeming to have some understanding of what Yuuri was feeling. “Sorry, stupid question.” He sat down next to Yuuri, opening his arms for a hug.

Yuuri immediately accepted, setting his mug of tea down on the coffee table and turning to clutch at his friend. Tears started filling his eyes again. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried so much, and it seemed amazing that his body was able to produce any more tears. Yuuri wasn’t usually a tactile person, but contact comfort from his few close friends and family was always appreciated. 

“I’m so sorry about Vicchan. I know how much you loved him.” 

Yuuri squeezed Phichit harder. “I wasn’t there for him. He didn’t know why I never came home.” 

Returning the squeeze, Phichit replied, “He knew you loved him. And you couldn’t have known what was going to happen.” 

Yuuri didn’t respond, he just cried into Phichit’s shoulder, letting his younger friend murmur soothing words and rub his back. “That’s it, let it out,” Phichit whispered as Yuuri cried himself out. 

Feeling drained and a little embarrassed about getting snot on Phichit’s sweater, Yuuri pulled back and rubbed at his eyes. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Phichit insisted, grabbing a box of tissues off the coffee table and handing it to Yuuri. It seemed like he had prepared for Yuuri’s arrival. 

Yuuri gratefully accepted the tissues, blowing his nose until the pressure in his sinuses was relieved. He sniffled and murmured, “I messed up. I messed up so bad.”

Phichit made a sympathetic noise and reached over so he could pull his friend into another gentle embrace. His arms went around Yuuri’s shoulders, squeezing gently but allowing the other man to have room to pull away. “You didn’t mess anything up. Everyone falls sometimes. I know you can come back to this.”

Yuuri shook his head. “That’s not what I meant.” Sure, he was upset about his performance, but he’d already made up his mind to work extra hard for the rest of the season. It was easier to handle his failure, no matter how awful it was, knowing he at least had a plan moving forward. “Victor…” He swallowed hard. The words felt heavy on his tongue. “It was my fault.”

“The abduction? What are you talking about?” Phichit had heard what happened, of course. Yuuri knew his friend would have seen it on social media by now. 

Clenching his fists, Yuuri replied, “He was walking me back to my room when he was abducted. I got black out drunk and he had to take care of me.” Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut. “I saw the security footage. I was there, and I didn’t do anything. I can’t even remember what happened.”

Phichit scoffed. “That hardly sounds like your fault--”

“It is!” Yuuri interrupted. “He was out there because of  _ me _ . He wouldn’t have left the banquet if I hadn’t bombed my free skate and gotten shit-faced!” More softly, he said, “I’m the useless idiot that got Victor Nikiforov kidnapped. Everyone will hate me if they find out. And rightly so.” 

“Yuuri…” Phichit sighed. “It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.” 

Yuuri pushed Phichit away, standing up. “All of it is my fault. Vicchan, Victor, everything. I just ruin everything.” 

“No you don’t--”

“Stop.” Yuuri said shortly. He was going to wallow in his misery, and Phichit wasn’t going to stop him. “Just don’t.” Turning toward his room, Yuuri called over his shoulder, “Thanks for the tea”. Then, he retreated to his room and shut the door, ignoring Phichit’s exasperated sighing in the living room. 

Yuuri dropped down on his bed, feeling the exhaustion of the past few days catch up to him. He looked up, glancing around at his posters and seeing impossibly blue eyes staring down at him from every corner of his room. Those eyes seemed to be looking right through him, judging him. Yuuri focused on his newest poster, which featured Victor in his current free skate costume holding a blue rose and reaching out to an invisible partner. The Victor in the poster looked wistful, maybe even sad. Yuuri tried not to think about what he might look like now, in the hands of the monster that took him. He shook his head, trying to will away the image of Victor’s limp body on the TV screen being carried away to an unknown fate. Yuuri grasped at the fabric of his pants, gritting his teeth against the awful memory. 

After a few deep breaths, he focused on the poster again. “I’m going to find you. I don’t know how, but I will,” Yuuri promised the poster. It seemed ridiculous, impossible even, but Yuuri would find a way.

Exhaustion crept over him, and Yuuri laid down so his head was resting on his pillow. He stared at the poster of Victor until his eyes were too heavy to keep open anymore. Yuuri fell into a deep sleep, and dreamed of blood. He kept seeing Victor taken in front of him, but he could never reach the Russian skater. Sometimes, dark hands held him back. Other times, Victor would slip further away, no matter how fast he ran. The worst were when the kidnapper killed Victor instead of abducting him. Yuuri would scream and clutch at Victor as an impossible amount of blood swallowed them both. It was a dark cycle that repeated on loop, until Yuuri woke with a start, light streaming in through his windows. 

He was still wearing the clothes he had traveled in, and his glasses were sitting half off his face. Yuuri was lucky he hadn’t broken them. Judging by how mussed the sheets were, which he had slept on top of, he had been tossing and turning the entire night. He was sweaty, and his heart was racing. Despite the clock showing that he had been asleep for more than 12 hours, he didn’t feel particularly rested. He just felt gross.

Standing up, Yuuri stretched, feeling bruises and sore muscles protesting as he moved. His head was slightly less achy, but it was still tender when he reached up to touch it. With a groan, Yuuri shuffled out of his room and down the hall into the bathroom. He brushed his teeth, feeling much cleaner once his mouth didn’t taste disgusting anymore, then he shed his clothes so he could get in the shower. The warm water felt like heaven, though it wasn’t as good as the onsen, of course. Still, he stayed in long enough that his skin got pruney, and he could hear Phichit complaining about the lack of hot water in the kitchen. Reluctantly, Yuuri turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, toweling himself off. 

He retreated to his room to dress in his most comfortable lounge clothes, then shuffled out to the living room, yawning the whole time. Phichit was at the stove, humming softly and folding an omelette. Yuuri was creeping up to the fridge behind him, trying not to engage his roommate after their awkward encounter yesterday.

“Why do you think I’m making an omelette at 3:00 in the afternoon?” Phichit asked without looking away from the pan on the stove. 

Yuuri froze, his arm outstretched toward some questionably old pizza on the middle shelf. “Uh, what?” 

“Do you think I’m making an omelette at 3:00 in the afternoon for myself?” Phichit questioned, plating the omelette and turning around to raise his eyebrows at Yuuri.

“Uhhh…”

Phichit rolled his eyes. “Sit down.” He gestured to the table. 

Yuuri hesitated, but pushed the refrigerator door closed and did as he was told. He knew better than to try and argue with Phichit. As he plopped down at the table, Phichit set the omelette in front of him, along with a glass of orange juice and some pieces of fruit. He sat down across from Yuuri and gestured for him to start eating. Yuuri’s stomach was still in a knot from yesterday, but he knew Phichit wouldn’t let him leave the table without getting some food in his belly. He took small bites, smiling gratefully at his roommate. He knew a peace offering when he saw one. 

The downside of being fed by Phichit was that his friend had him cornered. “Are we gonna talk about yesterday?”   
  


“No,” Yuuri replied, shoving more food in his mouth.

Phichit sighed. “Yuuri, I’m worried. You went through a lot, and you’re taking everything really hard. Plus, getting blackout drunk isn’t like you.”

Yuuri shrugged. “I’m fine.”

Phichit snorted. “I doubt that.” He eyed his roommate with concern. “I know Ciao Ciao banned you from the ice. Will you at least take this time to relax?”

“I’ll try,” Yuuri relented. He took a few gulps of juice. “I actually have a project I’m going to work on. That will keep me busy.”

“For school?”

“No. Something personal.”

Phichit looked suspicious. “Ok…”

Yuuri took a few bites of fruit. His stomach was handling food better than he’d expected, and it was quite tasty. The fruit was fresh, and the omelette was flavorful. “I actually wanted to ask for your help.”

“Really?” Phichit looked surprised. “You usually like to do everything on your own.” 

“I know. But I’m kind of in over my head,” Yuuri admitted. 

“What is it that you’re doing?” Phichit asked curiously, grabbing a grape off of Yuuri’s plate. 

Yuuri playfully swatted at Phichit’s thieving hands. “You like crime shows, right? The ones based on real life?”

“Mhm. Why?” 

“Would you say you learned a lot from them? About actual crime?”

Phichit shrugged. “Are you asking me to help you get away with murder? Because I did pick up some tricks from  _ Breaking Bad _ .” 

Yuuri threw a grape at his friend. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“The process,” Yuuri clarified. “How they find criminals.” 

Shrugging again, Phichit replied, “It all sounds pretty easy when they explain it in detail, but I’m sure it’s a lot harder in real life. I still don’t understand what you want.” 

Without wasting any more words, Yuuri stated, “I want to find Victor.” 

There was a heavy silence as Phichit processed Yuuri’s words. He was looking at Yuuri like he had two heads. Finally, Phichit responded, “You want to find Victor.” It wasn’t a question, but a flat statement of exasperation and disbelief. 

Fidgeting nervously, Yuuri replied, “Yes. I do.” 

Phichit pinched the bridge of his nose. “I get that you idolize him, but I think you’re taking this a bit far.”

“It’s not about that,” Yuuri insisted. 

“Then what is it about?”

“I already told you, it was my fault.” 

Phichit groaned in frustration. “Seriously? You feel responsible, which you shouldn’t, by the way, so you think you’re going to be the one to track him down? Do you have any idea how insane that sounds?” 

“I know,” Yuuri admitted, not letting his friend’s words discourage him.

“Then why are you doing it? There are actual professionals looking for him!” 

Yuuri slammed a fist on the table. “Because I can’t just sit here and do nothing! No matter what you say, I know I’m responsible!” He gritted his teeth. “I have to make it right. You didn’t see everyone’s face when they found out he was missing. His coach. His rinkmates. His fans.” Looking Phichit dead in the eye he continued, “His best friend. Chris is devastated. Don’t pretend like you wouldn’t do the same if it was me.” 

“I would do anything to help you, but I wouldn’t pretend I’m a detective!” Phichit snapped. “I would know there was nothing I could do, just like there’s nothing  _ you  _ can do!” 

There were a few moments of stunned silence between the two of them. They had disagreements, but they never fought. Not like this. Phichit seemed to be having the same thought as Yuuri, because his expression softened and he whispered, “I’m worried about you. This guilt isn’t healthy. Maybe you should talk to someone.” 

Yuuri immediately closed off. He didn’t need to repeat this conversation with a mental health professional. “I’m going to do this with or without your help,” he promised. 

Phichit clenched his jaw, standing up from the table. “You can be such a stubborn brat sometimes, you know that?” He stomped toward his room, appearing moments later with his skate bag. “I’m going to skate.” He unlocked the door, then stepped out and slammed it behind him.

Yuuri winced. Phichit was normally very level headed, albeit a tad excitable. He must be really upset if he was showing this much anger. The frustration from the argument settled heavily in Yuuri’s gut, and he didn’t feel particularly hungry anymore. He rose from the table, tracking down clean tupperware to store the rest of his omelette. Then, he cleaned up the dishes that Phichit had left. It was only fair considering his roommate had made him a meal. 

Yuuri was itching to skate. He wanted to work off his anxiety and frustration, but it wasn’t worth getting pulled from Nationals. He  _ had to _ go to Nationals. And he had to win. That would be significantly more challenging if he didn’t get to practice. 

The realization hit Yuuri that his coach hadn’t said anything about going to the gym. Feeling a bit smug about the loophole, Yuuri threw on his workout clothes and walked to the apartment complex’s tiny gym. It was simple and a bit sparse, but Yuuri didn’t want to risk running into his rinkamtes or his coach at their usual gym, so it would have to do. 

Since it was still technically the middle of a school day, the gym was mostly deserted. Yuuri was able to rotate through cardio and weights without having to wait for machines or share equipment. It wasn’t the same as skating, but the physical activity did help him calm down. And he’d be damned if he fell out of shape now, just as he had declared his intention to win this season. 

After his cool down, Yuuri dragged himself back to his apartment. He was dreading another confrontation with Phichit, but the apartment was dark and empty when he arrived home. Yuuri let out the breath he had been holding and went to take his second shower of the day. He didn’t linger long, wanting to retreat to his room before Phichit came home. He seemed to make it just in time, as he heard the front door open just as he was settling in at his desk. Phichit didn’t call out to Yuuri like he normally did when he got home. Instead, he went straight into the bathroom, blasting Thai pop music from his bluetooth speakers. 

Yuuri hoped this rift wouldn’t last. Phichit was his best friend, and really, his only friend in Detroit. He was friendly with most of his rinkmates and occasionally joined them for a meal or a movie, but he didn’t feel particularly close to any of them. 

Swallowing his sadness, Yuuri decided it was time to get to work. His sleep schedule was thrown off from his long nap the previous day, so he knew he wouldn’t be able to get to sleep any time soon. He did have to return to class tomorrow, but it was one of his lighter days with a late start and an easy subject. It left him plenty of time to start working. Although, Yuuri wasn’t totally sure where to start. His timeline idea hadn’t worked, so what should he try next?

Leaning back in his chair, Yuuri looked up at his Victor posters, staring at the same one he’d looked at last night. Maybe, he should start with motive? Wasn’t that something that American cop shows always talked about? 

It was hard to imagine someone wanting to hurt Victor, but there was an obvious motive; jealousy. Victor was the best figure skater in the world, and had been for years. No one could even come close to beating him. It wasn’t unreasonable to think that someone might have been trying to get Victor out of the way so they could win. But who would benefit the most from that? 

Yuuri swallowed hard as a name popped into his head. There was someone who had been nipping at Victor’s heels for years, who had never been able to beat him. Someone who continuously took silver when Victor stepped on the ice. Someone who probably had a great shot at winning without Victor around.

_ Chris _ .

Yuuri shook his head. There was no way. Chris and Victor were best friends, and Chris had never outwardly shown Victor any ill will (that Yuuri knew of). Plus, he’d been devastated in Sochi. His tear filled eyes and pale face had been haunting Yuuri’s memories. There was also the fact that other than Phichit, Chris was probably one of the skaters that Yuuri knew best. They weren’t that close, but they’d known each other for years, and Chris had never been anything but kind to him. Inappropriate and obnoxiously tactile, sure, but kind nonetheless. 

_ Maybe he’s a really good actor? _ Yuuri wondered. It seemed pretty farfetched, but he probably shouldn’t rule out a suspect just based on his gut instinct. Chris did have motive, after all. And based on Yuuri’s memory of the video, he could fit the description of the attacker. Truthfully, a lot of his memories from that day were a bit hazy, though Yuuri didn’t know if it was because of his head injury or just sensory overload. He didn’t remember exactly what the attacker’s build or height was, but he knew that they had been at least around Victor’s height. Definitely taller than Yuuri. He had to dig through the Swiss Skating Federation’s website, but it was easy enough to find Chris’s height. He knew Victor’s by heart, of course. Chris was a bit taller, but he seemed like he could still be in the right range. Yuuri pulled out a piece of paper and wrote down Chris’s name. He really didn’t suspect his friend, but he wanted to be thorough. 

The other obvious suspect was the bronze medalist. Perhaps not as obvious as the silver medalist, but still reasonable motive. Yuuri knew Jean-Jacques Leroy better than he cared to. He wasn’t a bad person, just annoying.  _ Really _ annoying. He’d only been with Celestino for a season before he got fed up with not being able to do what he wanted all the time. Then, his parents had decided to start coaching him themselves. No one was particularly sad to see him go.

Despite JJ’s obnoxious personality, the crime didn’t really fit him either. He had talked about at length how he wanted to beat Victor and prove that he was the true “king” of skating. It didn’t make sense for him to get rid of Victor if he wanted to compete against him.

What about his parents? They were intense, and Yuuri remembered them bashing Victor in an interview once. He remembered because he had been seething all day after he saw it. He hated hearing people speak poorly about his idol. Could they have done something to give their son a better shot at winning? 

Yuuri wrote down all three of their names. After that, he added the other GPF senior men’s competitors to the list, minus himself. Technically, they all had motive. Cao Bin wasn’t known for his friendly personality, and there had even been rumors at one point that he’d gotten into a fight with another competitor. He’d injured himself during his freeskate and fallen in the rankings, losing his chance to make it onto the podium. He’d never been able to beat Victor before either. Maybe he was angry that he’d lost his chance? The injury was bad, and it was rumored that he was retiring. Perhaps this was his final revenge for always losing to the Russian skating legend?

In that case, he should probably add Cao Bin’s coach too. Actually, he should probably add all of their coaches. And maybe their families? Friends?

Yuuri groaned. This was going to be so much harder than he thought, so he needed to be strategic. Yuuri crossed out the coaches and JJ’s parents, deciding to start with just competitors. That was already a big enough pool. 

Next, was Michele Crispino. Rather than being angry at Victor for winning, maybe he thought Victor tried to make a move on his sister. Yuuri and Sara were friendly, and Michele had snarled at him on many occasions, so Yuuri knew how bad his wrath could be. Victor was known for being a playboy, so maybe Michele got worried that he was trying to hit on her. It was pretty extreme, but Michele was a bit of a weird guy. Yuuri wrote his name down.

The senior men’s division was barely scratching the surface. There were junior skaters, the women’s divisions, as well as the non-singles skaters. So, Yuuri went down the list of competitors one by one, looking up their information on their federation’s website. He knew he could eliminate anyone that was shorter than him, since he remembered that detail about the attacker. That got rid of most of the juniors and women, but not all of them. There were also a few outliers on the other end of the height spectrum that he was able to eliminate, since he knew that the attacker hadn’t been significantly taller than Victor, if they were taller at all. Yuuri rubbed his temple. If only he could remember. The video details were fuzzy in his head, and of course the night itself was completely absent. 

Ready for a break, Yuuri looked at his clock, shocked to see how late it had gotten. If he wanted to get a full night’s rest before his first class, he needed to be asleep 3 hours ago. He still wasn’t particularly tired, but his eyes were burning from staring at his computer screen, and his head was starting to ache. He decided to call it a night.

After taping the list to the wall in front of his desk, Yuuri changed into his pajamas and crawled into bed. He fell asleep surprisingly quickly, but he had horrible dreams, just like the night before. His mind just kept churning out scenarios where Victor was abducted in front of him, and Yuuri either couldn’t or wouldn’t help. It left him tossing and turning, and by the time his alarm went off, he was not well rested at all. 

He dragged himself out of bed, barely staying awake as he got ready for class. Phichit was already out the door, having an early class that day. Yuuri was relieved, as he still didn’t feel ready to face his roommate. 

Following a quick breakfast, Yuuri rushed out the door, barely making in time for his literature class. It was a stupid school-wide requirement, and Yuuri hated it. The professor would assign classic literature to read and then make them search for themes that Yuuri was pretty sure were made up. Who said everything was symbolic? Maybe knitting was just knitting. 

The good thing about this class was that he didn’t really need to pay attention. Yuuri didn’t really want to be cyberstalking people in the middle of a crowded classroom, but he couldn’t help himself. He didn’t remember all the names on his list, but he was able to research quite a few that he did know of. His “research” mostly consisted of looking at instagram pictures. The pictures from the banquet were quite tame, considering Yuuri had been told that he and Chris had pole danced. Yuuri figured there was some kind of privacy agreement, spoken or unspoken. Fortunately, many of the skaters that had attended the banquet had posted selfies and documentation of the night, tagging their time and location. Miraculously, Yuuri remembered the timestamp on the security footage, so he was able to rule out a few skaters based on the fact that they had posted photos from the banquet around the time Victor was taken.

By the time his class ended, Yuuri had made significant progress on his list. He’d written down the names he’d eliminated in his notebook so he could cross them off when he got home. He wouldn’t be able to do any more work in his next class, because it required more active listening. 

His second class dragged on, and as soon as they were dismissed, Yuuri rushed home. Phichit was cooking dinner when Yuuri entered the apartment, but neither of them said anything. They both stared at each other awkwardly for a few moments, Yuuri in the doorway and Phichit reaching toward ingredients in the pantry, before both of them turned away without a word. He didn’t want there to be a rift between them, but Yuuri didn’t know what to say. Instead of dealing with his problems, Yuuri quickly changed into his workout clothes and went to the gym. Phichit eyed him suspiciously as he left, but didn’t say anything. 

Once his muscles were pleasantly fatigued, he had a quick shower and snack before retreating to his room. He was able to eliminate a few more people on his list, as well as start a collection of pictures from the banquet. He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d do with them, but he thought it might be useful to reference them later and see if there were any details he’d missed. Or remember. 

Yuuri fell asleep at his desk after staring at a blurry selfie of two ice dancers that he didn’t know. Victor’s distinctive silver hair was visible in the background, so Yuuri hoped he’d find something useful. He didn’t. 

Sunlight was pouring in when Yuuri woke up the next day, his neck and shoulders aching from the curled position he’d slept in. He groaned, sitting up and rubbing his eyes sleepily. At least he hadn’t dreamed. 

Yuuri’s eyes fell on his digital clock, sending him into a panic. He’d missed both of his morning classes, and he was about to miss his afternoon class. Usually, Phichit would wake him up if he overslept, but the rift between them meant that his roommate wasn’t feeling particularly giving. Yuuri threw on the first set of clean clothes he could find, brushing his teeth as he slipped his shoes on. He managed to make it in time to his class, but he got stuck in one of the crappy seats in the back that had a terrible view of the presenter. Fortunately, Yuuri hadn’t really planned to pay attention anyway. He wanted to keep working on his research. 

He almost missed the end of the lecture, only being jostled out of his concentration by the person next to him accidentally bumping Yuuri’s head with their backpack. Yuuri blinked, feeling a little ashamed to have missed all of the lecture. 

_ Victor is more important _ , his brain reminded him. With that in mind, Yuuri returned home and continued his cycle of gym, research, sleep. There were occasional snack breaks, but Yuuri didn’t really leave himself time to make a full meal. He and Phichit were still barely talking, only murmuring basic greetings as they passed each other in the hallway, but Phichit was giving him increasingly concerned looks.

Yuuri knew he probably looked a little disheveled, since he hadn’t been sleeping or eating well, but the work was worth it. By the time Celestino and the rink doctor cleared Yuuri to get back on the ice, Yuuri felt like he had his first real suspect: Georgi Popovich.

He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it sooner. He had the perfect motive! Always in Victor’s shadow, never given the chance to be Russia’s prized skater. Even Georgi’s birthday was overshadowed by Victor‘s! Yuuri hadn’t even known that the other Russian skater’s birthday was the day after Victors, because all he cared about was Victor. How many other times had Georgi been overlooked? He would probably benefit more than anyone from getting Victor out of the way. No more shared coach time. No more shared sponsors. He’d have a shot at being Russia’s top skater without Victor. 

Yuuri thought back to the last time he’d seen Georgi. He’d been in Sochi, but not as a competitor, so he must have been there to support his teammates. Or at least, that would be a good cover if he’d gone there to hurt Victor. As he thought about the Russian skater, Yuuri realized that Georgi did look kind of frazzled when they passed each other in the hotel. It would make sense if Georgi was worried that Yuuri would remember him.

Feeling confident that he had a good lead, Yuuri pulled out his phone and sent a quick text:

**Yuuri** : How well do you know Georgi Popovich?

To Yuuri’s surprise, a response came almost immediately. Doing the math, Yuuri realized that it was morning in St. Petersburg. The recipient was probably already awake for practice.

**Yuri** : Better than I care to. Why?

Yuuri was about to respond, when his phone started buzzing again.

**Yuri** : Is this about Victor?

**Yuri** : Fuck. Answer your phone. 

As soon as Yuuri finished reading the text, his phone rang. He picked up on the second ring, after the shock of Yuri Plisetsky calling him wore off a bit.

“Uh, hi Yuri,” Yuuri answered awkwardly.

“What the fuck are you thinking?” 

“Well, I—”

“I know what you’re doing,” Yuri grumbled. 

“I’m—” Yuuri tried to interject again.

Yuri didn’t stop to let Yuuri speak. “You’re an idiot if you think Georgi had something to do with Victor’s disappearance.” He seemed to have understood the reason behind Yuuri’s question. Yuri really was a sharp kid. 

Yuuri waited for a pause this time, then carefully said, “He’s actually a very reasonable suspect. He has motive. He was at the right location. He even fits the description of the suspect.” 

Yuri was quiet for a few seconds, then asked, “How do you know what the suspect looks like? You said you couldn’t remember anything.”

“Uh, I don’t.” Yuuri was kicking himself for letting that bit of information slide. He’d already told Chris about the video, he probably shouldn’t tell Yuri too. 

“You’re hiding something,” Yuri growled suspiciously. 

“No, I—”

“Don’t you dare keep secrets from me!” Yuri snarled. “Victor is  _ my _ rinkmate! He owes  _ me _ a program! You don’t get to pretend like you’re suddenly important to him because you hit on him at the banquet!” The pitch of his voice rose slightly at the end.

Yuuri was speechless. The younger skater put on a tough front, but he seemed to be actually quite upset about Victor’s disappearance. Yuuri had a feeling that Yuri cared far more than he let on. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

“Huh?” Yuri sounded puzzled, like he was not expecting that response.

“You’re right. You know him a lot better than I do.” Yuuri took a deep breath. “If I tell you something, will you promise to keep it to yourself? It could be the difference between finding Victor or not.” He didn’t want to scare the teen, but he also didn’t want to downplay the importance of keeping the video a secret. Yuuri didn’t want to accidentally spread information that could impede the investigation.

“Yeah, ok. Fine,” Yuri grumbled. Then, more seriously, he replied, “I promise.” 

Yuuri accepted his promise and explained, “The officers at the hotel showed me and my coach security footage of what happened to Victor. It wasn’t very good quality, but I have a general idea of what they look like.” He hesitated, but ended up telling Yuri everything he remembered from the video. If nothing else, having an ally at Victor’s rink who knew the details of the case could be helpful. Especially if Georgi was still a potential suspect, it wouldn’t hurt to have someone on the inside. 

Yuri was uncharacteristically quiet once Yuuri finished his explanation. Yuuri thought he hung up, until he heard a shaky breath. “Fuck.” 

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Yuuri almost laughed at Yuri’s single expletive. “Yeah, fuck,” he agreed. “This whole thing is pretty messed up, right?” 

Yuri tsked. “Yeah, no shit.” He was silent for a few more moments, then whispered, “Georgi wouldn’t do this.” 

“What?” 

“Georgi,” Yuri repeated, “He’s not the guy.” 

Yuuri frowned. “How can you be sure? He’s the perfect suspect.” 

“Except for the fact that he’s about as dangerous as a stupid, emotional baby. He and Victor have known each other for years,” Yuri reasoned. 

“Just think about it,” Yuuri insisted. “He’s always been in Victor’s shadow. He could be the top skater in Russia without Victor. In fact, he probably is now.”

Yuri snorted. “First of all,  _ I’m _ the top skater in Russia, with or without Victor!” the teen declared. “Second, have you ever talked to the guy? He likes sappy romance novels and shitty poetry. He’s too busy obsessing over his new girlfriend to bother with Victor.” His voice sounded forcefully firm, as if he was trying to convince himself of what he was saying.

“I understand that he’s your friend—”

“He is NOT my friend!” Yuri interrupted with a snarl. 

“Ok, your rinkmate,” Yuuri corrected. He considered Yuri’s words. “You’re  _ sure  _ he wouldn’t hurt Victor?”

“Positive,” Yuri replied resolutely. “Georgi might be a melodramatic ass, but he’s not a criminal.”

Yuuri wanted to brush off the younger skater’s reasoning, because Georgi was still the perfect suspect, but Yuri seemed quite confident. It wasn’t fair to ignore Yuri’s perspective. Afterall, Chris had been a perfect suspect too, and Yuuri had eliminated him based on their previous friendship. Yuri probably spent nearly every day with Georgi and Victor, so he would have a good read on how the two interacted. 

Sighing, Yuuri finally relented. “Ok, I believe you. I’ll cross Georgi off my list, if you promise to just keep an eye out and let me know if something seems off with him. Deal?” 

“Yeah, fine,” Yuri agreed. 

Yuuri smiled. “Thanks, Yuri.” 

“Whatever,” Yuri grunted in response, although he sounded pleased. Out of nowhere, he asked, “What are you doing for Japanese Nationals?”

Yuuri was almost convinced he misheard. “Excuse me?”

“Japanese Nationals,” he repeated irritably. “Are you changing your programs?”

“Uh, I don’t know. I should be able to win with my current programs, if I land everything.”

Yuri tsked. “That’s a big if. You need to get your shit together!” 

Yuuri still didn’t understand why they had transitioned to talking about skating, but he went with it. “My coach banned me from the ice because of a minor head injury I had. Tomorrow will be my first day back.” 

“So you’re just going to repeat the same shitty performance?” 

“No,” Yuuri replied firmly. “I’m going to do better this time. I got some bad news from home before I skated at the GPF,” he explained, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. “My dog died. I hadn’t seen him in years and I was really upset.” Yuuri expected the younger skater to laugh or scream at him.

Instead, Yuri replied, “Shit. That sucks.” He sounded shockingly sympathetic. 

“Oh. Thanks. Yeah, it did suck.” Yuuri was completely surprised about how genuine Yuri had sounded. 

Yuri seemed to understand his confusion. “I have a cat,” he explained. “Her name is Potya, and she’s the best cat in the world. If anything happened to her…” he trailed off, a slight quiver in his voice. Then, as soon as it had come, the tenderness was gone. “But there’s no excuse for the rest of this season! You’d better win! I don’t want a loser sharing my name.” 

Yuuri chuckled. “I will. I’ve already made up my mind that I want to win this season.” He resisted the urge to point out that Yuri had yelled at him to retire not that long ago. Apparently, the teen had changed his mind.

“You’re going to need to work on your jumps if you want to do that. They suck!” 

Sighing, Yuuri agreed, “Yeah, I know.” 

“I can help you with your quad sal,” Yuri murmured, so quiet he was barely audible.

“What?” 

Yuri sighed, then repeated, “I can help you with your quad sal. Send me a video and I’ll tell you what you’re doing wrong.” 

“You can do quads already?” Yuuri asked in awe. 

“Of course I can! Stupid Victor made me promise not to do any until seniors though. Said he’d give me a program if I could win without them.” He huffed. “And I did!” 

“I saw your programs. You’re really good,” Yuuri complimented genuinely. He knew talent when he saw it.

Proudly, Yuri replied, “Of course I am! When I have my senior debut, I’m going to kick all of your asses! Victor’s included, so you better find him!” 

“I will,” Yuuri promised. 


	3. Tension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri works hard preparing for Nationals...but is he overdoing it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi sorry I disappeared for a bit but I have a good excuse! I graduated and then moved so I didn't have time to work on anything. I start a real life adult job next week (!!!) so I have no idea how that will change my motivation/availability but I'm trying to finish this fic in a timely manner! I probably only have 2 or so chapters left before I'm done :)

With Nationals just around the corner, Yuuri was training harder than ever. He made sure to be the first one at the rink, and the last to leave. Celestino had lectured him a few times on not overdoing it, and Phichit was not bothering to hide his concern, but neither of them could deny how much progress he was making. Yuuri had never felt so prepared for a competition before, and with Yuri’s guidance, he had started landing his quad sal. It wasn’t quite consistent, but he was landing it with significantly more success than he used to. It really only took a few video chat sessions of Yuri snapping at Yuuri to start to pinpoint the flaws in his technique. Celestino didn’t know about Yuuri’s young teacher, but he was happy with his student’s success nonetheless. 

“Looking great, Yuuri! I’ve never seen you so prepared before!” Celestino gave him a thumbs up as Yuuri finished his run through.

Yuuri was panting from the effort of skating his full program, but he shook his head. “It’s still not quite right. I need to run it again.” 

Without his glasses on, Yuuri couldn’t see Celestino clearly, but the blurry outline of his form looked tense, like he was crossing his arms. “I think that’s enough for today. We have an early flight tomorrow so you should end early and take it easy.” 

Of course Celestino wanted him to stop. He’d been treating Yuuri like he was fragile since they returned from the GPF. Yuuri didn’t know if it was his humiliating loss, or the Victor situation, but Celestino was more overbearing than usual. He’d kicked Yuuri out of the rink a few times, when he’d decided Yuuri had enough. 

Yuuri shook his head. “I have at least one more in me.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Celestino replied, the frown evident in his voice. “But there’s no reason to push yourself. Your base score alone basically guarantees you a spot on the podium, and if you skate like that, you’ll take gold for sure. You’re ready.” 

“But--”

“No buts!” Celestino insisted. “You’re done. Coach’s orders.” He waved an arm. “Phichit, why don’t you go home with Yuuri? You might not be competing this weekend but the flight is still going to be rough on you too.”

Yuuri’s head snapped over to his roommate, who was close enough that Yuuri could see him nodding and glancing nervously at the older skater. “You’re coming too?” 

“Yeah,” Pichit replied, shifting his weight on his skates. “Ciao Ciao asked me to.” 

“Considering what happened at the GPF, I thought it might be safer to have another set of eyes,” Celestino explained. “I have the two of you rooming together, and I don’t want either of you going anywhere alone.”

“Is this really necessary? I don’t need a chaperone.” Normally, Yuuri would be overjoyed at the thought of having his best friend along at a competition. However, he and Phichit still hadn’t gotten over their fight and their apartment was still tense. It was going to be incredibly awkward having the two of them stuck together for so long. 

“I figured you would prefer having Phichit accompany you everywhere instead of myself,” Celestino clarified.

Yuuri clenched his fists. He didn’t need to be accompanied everywhere. “I can manage on my own,” he argued. 

“Absolutely not. Whoever took Victor still hasn’t been found. Who knows if they will try to go after someone else? I won’t have any of my skaters alone at competitions while this monster is out there.” 

It was sound logic, even if Yuuri didn’t like it. He sighed in defeat. “Alright.”

“Good!” Celestino clapped once. “Now, cool down and get off the ice. Both of you!”

Both Yuuri and Phichit did as they were told, skating laps to cool themselves down. Phichit was skating close by, eyeing Yuuri like he wanted to say something. Yuuri sped up so he didn’t have to hear whatever it was. He knew he was probably being unfair to Phichit, since his friend was only looking out for him, but he was frustrated that Phichit wouldn’t support him. Every time he saw Yuuri trying to work Victor’s case, he’d shake his head and mutter disapprovingly. It hurt that Phichit couldn’t see how important this was to Yuuri.

Speaking of Victor’s case, Yuuri hadn’t made any other breakthroughs since his conversation with Yuri. He’d scoured every social media tag that had pictures of the banquet but he hadn’t found anything suspicious. He was at a loss of what to do. Yuuri had also been following every detail of the case that was shared in English or Japanese, and even managed to find some translations of Russian interviews. He felt like he was pretty on top of the information that was out there, but he wasn’t finding anything new. 

After a very tense cool down, both Yuuri and Phichit stepped off the ice and put on their skate guards. They walked to the locker room side-by-side, but didn’t speak or look at each other. They dressed in silence, walked home in silence, and when they reached their apartment, they ate leftovers in silence. It was a change from their usual pre-competition routine, when they’d splurge and split takeout so they didn’t have to deal with cooking the day before they flew out somewhere. Instead, they sat at opposite ends of their kitchen table, staring down at their plates. 

It was only when Yuuri set his fork down on his plate with a quiet “clink” that Phichit actually looked at him properly and spoke. “Ciao Ciao is worried about you.  _ I’m _ worried about you. The kidnapper isn’t the only reason he asked me to go.” 

Yuuri frowned. He had suspected as much. “I’m fine. You heard Ciao Ciao today, I’m more prepared than I’ve ever been.”

“And at what cost? You look like shit,” Phichit accused. “Why are you pushing yourself so hard?”

Yuuri wasn’t about to share his reasoning. He knew Phichit wouldn’t understand. “It’s just something I have to do.” 

“You mean like you ‘have to’ find Victor?” 

“Yes. Exactly like that.” Yuuri knew Phichit was being sarcastic, but he was serious about his dedication to the Russian skater. 

Phichit shook his head disapprovingly. “Don’t tell me this is about Victor too? What, do you think if you skate really really well he’ll appear out of nowhere and everything will just be fine?” 

“Of course not. Why can’t I want to make up for my terrible performance at the GPF?” Yuuri countered. 

“Because if that’s all it was you wouldn’t be so defensive.” 

Phichit knew him too well. “I wouldn’t have to be defensive if you would just listen to me!” 

“What do you want me to do? Be ok with you obsessing to the point that you hurt yourself?” Phichit snapped. “You’re not sleeping well, you haven’t cooked in ages and the leftovers have been in the fridge for days, so you’re not eating well either. I know you’re working out more and staying at the rink longer.”

Yuuri crossed his arms irritably. “So now there’s a problem with me working hard?” 

Phichit made a frustrated noise. “If it was just you ‘working hard’, it wouldn’t be a problem!” He leveled a glare at the older skater. “The problem is that you’re going to seriously injure yourself for someone that’s probably dead!” As soon as he said the words, Phichit paled. He covered his mouth, like he hadn’t meant to say it, but the damage was done.

Yuuri’s eyes narrowed. “So that’s how it is.” He stood up, dropping his dishes in the sink with enough force that he was surprised they didn’t break. “This is exactly why I need to skate for him, and keep looking for him. Because there’s going to be so many people like you that just want to give up. I need the world to know that he hasn’t been forgotten.”

“I’m sorry, I know how much you look up to Victor. I just meant that it’s been so long that statistically…” Phichit didn’t finish his sentence, gesturing vaguely with his hands. “You don’t even know the guy. I wish you would quit taking this so personally!” 

“I told you why it’s personal,” Yuuri replied flatly. 

Phichit stood up suddenly, dropping his dishes beside Yuuri’s. His did crack. “I can’t have this conversation again. I want to help you, but if you’re going to be stubborn like this then I can’t deal with you.” 

Yuuri watched Phichit stomp down the hall. The door slammed behind him, and Yuuri felt tears of frustration building in his eyes. He wished he could make Phichit understand, but he knew it was a lost cause. It was tempting to run after Phichit and smooth things over, but Yuuri was too angry, and Phichit seemed to be as well. Instead, Yuuri focused on cleaning up their dishes and disposing of the plate that cracked when Phichit dropped it in the sink. Neither of them would want to deal with dirty dishes when they got back from Japan. 

With the dishes clean, Yuuri turned in for the night. His sleep schedule was so off that he knew he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep for at least a few more hours. He used that time to cross more names off his list. By the time he was actually sleepy, he had gone through virtually all the names. Some of them hadn’t posted on social media, so he didn’t have any proof for or against their involvement. Still, none of them stood out to him. An ice dancer from Australia probably didn’t have much of a vendetta against Victor. Nor did a 15 year old up and coming junior skater who had just gone through a massive growth spurt. It seemed that Yuuri was at a dead end again.

Rubbing his temples, Yuuri pushed his desk chair back. At least he had been able to eliminate some of the more obvious suspects, like Chris or Georgi. Except now he’d have to go back and try to sift through the friends, family, and coaches of the skaters he’d highlighted. At least it was a short list; he’d ended up highlighting all of the other senior men’s finalists and Georgi. Even if he thought all of them were in the clear, they were still the prime suspects based on motive alone. Plus, even if they were innocent, it didn’t mean everyone they were associated with was. But that was a problem for another time. Yuuri knew he needed to try to get some sleep so he would be rested for the competition. Logically, he knew that winning really wasn’t all that important, but he couldn’t help but feel like it was equally as important as finding Victor. 

Yuuri changed into his pajamas, and tossed a few items in his suitcase that he’d forgotten to pack. Then, he curled up in his blankets and tried to sleep. This time, he did dream. Instead of seeing Victor abducted in his dream, Yuuri was the one being abducted, while Victor stood by and did nothing. Once again, Yuuri woke up not feeling particularly rested. He sat up in bed as his alarm went off, groaning irritably at the early hour. Judging by the soft thumping sounds periodically coming from the room next door, Phichit had to be up already. It wasn’t surprising, since Phichit was more of an early bird than Yuuri. Before their fight, Phichit would often make breakfast for the two of them. In exchange, Yuuri would make dinner. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss those cooking days. 

Sighing, Yuuri got out of bed and stretched. The morning went by in a fog as he got ready to leave for the airport. He and Phichit were civil, but tense. They took turns in the bathroom, mumbling a polite “excuse me” when they got in each other’s way, but nothing else. Yuuri was just finishing munching on a piece of toast when both his and Phichit’s phones chimed. Celestino had arrived to pick them up. Still silent, they both grabbed their bags and made their way out of the apartment. Phichit had packed lightly, since he didn’t need his costumes. Celestino did insist on the Thai skater bringing his skates so he could have some practice time. 

The two of them packed up their luggage and piled into Celestino’s car. He looked at them through the rearview mirror and shook his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard the two of you so quiet together. Up too late?” 

“Something like that,” Phichit murmured tersely. 

Celestino didn’t pick up on the tension. “Well, fortunately you’ll have some time to get your sleep schedule back on track before the competition starts!” 

Yuuri mumbled an affirmative, not looking at Phichit or his coach. Celestino realized that neither of his skaters were in the mood to chat, so he turned on the radio, chuckling along to the morning radio show. Yuuri was only half listening to idle chatter, staring out the window blankly. There was an aura of determination that Yuuri wasn’t used to having before a competition, but his nerves still wouldn’t quite settle. Even if he felt ready, he still couldn’t help but feel like this was going to be one of the most important competitions of his life. If he dedicated his season to Victor, and then lost everything, it would be a disaster. This competition was going to set the tone for the rest of the season, even though no one besides Yuuri knew it. 

Despite the awkward atmosphere still hanging between him and Phichit, their travel still managed to fly by in a blur. It helped that Yuuri was so exhausted that he passed out as soon as they boarded their second flight, which was an overnight international flight. The last thing he saw was the glow from the seat-back screen in front of Phichit, before he was being roused awake by the cabin crew handing out breakfast. 

Their layover went by mercifully fast, and their second flight was just as uneventful as the first. The three of them arrived at their hotel in the middle of the night, all looking and feeling worn out. Even though Yuuri had managed to sleep a bit, traveling always wore him out. The time zone differences didn’t help either.

Yuuri took care of checking them in, since he actually spoke the language, then handed both Phichit and Celestino their key cards. It was tempting to hand Phichit the card for Celestino’s room, but that would just lead to the awkward conversation about why the two friends were fighting in the first place. Yuuri wanted to avoid that conversation. If Celestino got wind of Yuuri’s new hobby, he had a feeling the coach would be having another conversation about pulling him out for the season. 

After thanking the receptionist, the three of them made their way up the elevator and up a few floors. Celestino stopped at one of the first rooms, giving his students a pointed look.

“Don’t stay up late,” he warned. “I’ll let you sleep in a bit tomorrow to help with the jet lag but I expect you both ready to skate by 10. Phichit, I managed to get some practice time for you so don’t think you can slack off on this trip.”

Both skaters murmured their understanding, then continued down the hall to their room. Phichit scanned his card and pushed the door open. He flicked the lights on without stopping, immediately collapsing on the nearest bed. Yuuri took off his shoes and latched the door before doing the same on the other bed. Yuuri was staring up at the ceiling, but he heard the sound of the springs squeaking on the other bed as Phichit moved around. Despite the lack of words between them, both of them groaned at the unpleasantness of the late hour. Yuuri might be a night owl, but traveling always took a lot out of him. In an unspoken agreement, the two of them got ready for bed, mumbling polite apologies as they bumped shoulders a few times in their sleepy haze. 

Yuuri settled into bed, setting his glasses on the nightstand. Phichit’s blurry form did the same. Then, the younger skater was asking, “Can I turn the light off?” 

“Yeah.” There was a heaviness to the silence after Yuuri spoke. Whether it was exhaustion or the lingering hurt feelings between them, Yuuri wasn’t sure. Regardless, Phichit didn’t respond, flicking the light off without another word. 

Despite his irregular sleep schedule since the GPF, Yuuri managed to sleep. When he woke up in the morning to Phichit’s alarm screaming the opening number to  _ The King and the Skater _ , Yuuri was shocked to realize that he’d had a relatively restful, dreamless sleep. He had worried that being back in a hotel would set off his anxiety, but apparently his body had been too tired for that. 

Just as they had gotten ready for bed in a haze the night before, Yuuri and Phichit got ready for their day in a haze. Normally, Yuuri wouldn’t eat breakfast, but he wasn’t foolish enough to skip meals before a competition. The two of them dressed in their practice clothes, then started to make their way toward the lobby for breakfast. Despite the obvious tension between them, it seemed weirder to do the same activities separate, so they stuck together in an awkward silence. 

Phichit led the way, walking over to a plain looking door at the end of the hall. He opened it, holding it for Yuuri. Yuuri reached out to keep the door from closing, and balked. Phichit took a few steps forward, but stopped when he realized that his rinkmate wasn’t behind him. He gave Yuuri a questioning look.

“You coming?” 

It should be a simple thing. Walk through the door, and go down the stairs. It should be simple, but when Yuuri tried to think about getting his feet to move forward, nothing happened. He stared down into the dimly lit stairwell, and couldn’t contain the sense of foreboding that overtook him. He took a few steps back, shaking his head. 

“I think I’ll take the elevator,” Yuuri replied. 

“What? Why? It’s only a few flights down,” Phichit responded with a frown.

How was he supposed to explain that seeing a video of himself and his idol being drugged in a stairwell made him kind of uncomfortable about taking the stairs? It wasn’t like he could remember what happened, but that didn’t seem to help the anxiety clawing at his chest. Yuuri tried to think logically. The kidnapper obviously wasn’t after Yuuri, or he would have taken him at the GPF. Plus, there were two of them. Sure, Yuuri had been with Victor, but he’d been drunk beyond any ability to be useful, so the champion skater may have been alone. Realistically, Yuuri would probably be just fine taking the stairs. But it didn’t matter what was logical or realistic, because Yuuri couldn’t stop the growing panic he felt.

“I just can’t.” Yuuri turned away from Phichit and the open door, not wanting to look down the stairs anymore. He hadn’t been in a stairwell since the incident, so he had no idea it would make him anxious. The only stairs he’d taken since the GPF were a few steps here and there, mostly outside buildings or in well-lit areas. Seeing something like this, which looked far too similar to the background of the security footage in Sochi, was more than Yuuri could handle. 

“What are you--” Phichit’s question was cut off. Yuuri was facing away from his friend, so he couldn’t see his expression, but he thought he heard a sharp intake of breath. “Oh.” 

Yuuri heard the door shut behind him, followed by soft footsteps approaching him. He’d told Phichit everything, and Phichit seemed to have connected the dots. Yuuri was grateful that he didn’t have to explain it, and he was also grateful for the comforting squeeze on his shoulder as his friend walked by him. Even with the awkwardness between them, Phichit wasn’t going to let Yuuri feel anxious and alone. He appreciated the support, even if he couldn’t find the words to say so. 

The two of them took the elevator, making it to the lobby without any other incidents. Breakfast was a subdued affair, but Yuuri still felt energized by the time Celestino came to get them. After a brief trip back up to their room to retrieve their gear, Yuuri and Phichit were following their coach to his rental car, and then to the arena. Phichit wouldn’t have a chance to skate until later, but Celestino hadn’t wanted to leave him alone. The younger skater leaned over the boards, alternating between taking videos of Yuuri and scrolling through social media.

Once he was sufficiently warmed up, Yuuri skated over to his coach. Celestino was nodding in approval. “You look nice and light out there. How about we start with that transition in your free skate that likes to trip you up?”

Yuuri nodded in understanding, then skated back out to center ice to take his turn. He was sharing the practice ice with a few other skaters, so he’d have to be mindful of where they were, but at least for now they had backed away so Yuuri could have a little space. Yuuri took a deep breath, waiting a few beats so the music could start flowing in his head. Then, he started into the part of his program that his coach had indicated. He stumbled a little on the transition the first time, but after a couple more run throughs, he felt solid. There was a smattering of polite applause that shocked Yuuri out of his concentration. He didn’t have his glasses on, so he couldn’t see everyone around him, but he seemed to have gained an audience. Feeling a little sheepish, Yuuri skated back to Celestino so he could grab some water and let someone else take a turn at center ice. 

“The first one was a little rocky but you really pulled it together!” Celestino praised. 

“That last one felt good,” Yuuri agreed. He glanced around nervously. “Why are so many people watching me?” 

“Yuuri, are you serious?” Celestino shook his head in disbelief. “You’re Japan’s top skater! Most of the other skaters out here right now are young, they’re obviously excited about seeing you skate in person.”

Yuuri frowned. “But I’m not--”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Celestino threatened. “You’re a great skater, and an inspiration for many up and coming skaters. Now, get back out there and show off a little!” He took Yuuri’s water bottled, shooing him back out onto the ice. 

Despite the uncomfortable feeling of scrutiny, Yuuri’s practice went well. Celestino was quite happy with his student’s progress, providing countless praises and encouragement. Yuuri cooled down, then the three of them took a brief break for lunch. Afterwards, Phichit had some brief practice time. Yuuri brought his laptop so he could do some work while his friend was skating. He sat in the stands, cursing the arena’s poor wifi connection. 

Yuuri opened up Victor’s Instagram, a knot forming in his stomach as he looked at smiling photos of the missing skater. He had spent so much time looking at other pictures, he hadn’t had the chance to look at any of Victor’s. Yuuri clicked on the first picture, which was a selfie of Victor and Chris posing with their respective medals. There wasn’t much to go off of for the case, but Victor looked  _ really _ good, so Yuuri may have stared at it far longer than necessary. Victor’s bangs were swept back enough that both of his gorgeous blue eyes were visible, and his lips were pulled back into a confident smirk. 

He finally managed to tear himself away from the picture, but got stuck on the next one, which was Victor posing with a scowling Yuri. Yuuri chuckled at the younger skater, who was proudly showing off his own gold medal, while simultaneously trying to pull away from Victor’s grasp. Despite the teen’s indifference, Victor looked just as good as the previous picture. In this one, he was winking, a toothy grin plastered on his face. It was tempting to take a screenshot of the photo, but that seemed a little inappropriate considering Victor was still missing. 

There were very few pictures of the banquet, much to Yuuri’s surprise. There were a few more selfies with Chris, or filtered photos of food and drink, but the documentation of the night was quite tame. Truthfully, Yuuri appreciated that photos of his drunken antics weren’t plastered all over social media, but the remaining pictures didn’t give him much to work with. Most of Victor’s photos were very purposefully framed with the champagne tower or a tasteful wall decoration in the background. It didn’t give him any information that he didn’t already have. 

Yuuri hadn’t found any new leads by the time Phichit’s practice had ended. Celestino gave them instructions to meet for dinner at 6:00, but told them they could otherwise do what they wanted. The jet lag was still pretty heavy for both of them, so they agreed to wait in their room until dinner. Both of them collapsed for a nap shortly after making it back to their room. Celestino woke them a couple hours later, knocking on their door. Their impromptu naps made them a little late, but Celestino didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seemed pleased that his skaters had used their time to take care of themselves. 

They picked a restaurant that was walking distance from the hotel. No food would ever measure up to his parents’ cooking, but the familiar oil and spice smells caused a wave of nostalgia to rush over Yuuri. He couldn’t help but smile as the three of them sat down for dinner. Katsudon was on the menu, but it seemed like sacrilege to eat a pork cutlet bowl that wasn’t made by his mom, so he resisted. Yuuri also refused to order any sashimi, despite Phichit’s begging. He never ate raw fish before a competition, despite subsisting off of low-quality Americanized sushi substitutes for the past few years. Phichit ended up getting a small sashimi platter, and it made Yuuri’s mouth water. Still, his light vegetable and rice bowl was still tasty, even if it wasn’t as good as the fried appetizers Phichit and Celestino were shoveling down. 

“How are you feeling about tomorrow?” Celestino asked between bites of takoyaki. 

“Good, actually. I think I’m ready.” 

Celestino nodded in agreement. “I think you are too.” 

After that, the conversation flowed easily. Even Phichit and Yuuri managed to make light conversation, acting more like their usual selves. The two of them had to keep their coach from over indulging in sake, laughing as the Italian man became more boisterous with every sip of his drink. By the time they were ready to head back, their bellies were full of good food, and the air around them was light. 

Yuuri was relieved that he and Phichit hadn’t argued since they arrived. Keeping himself focused on the competition was hard enough without being reminded of how he and his best friend weren’t currently getting along. Still, Yuuri managed to keep his mind from wandering too much. His usual competition nerves were starting to creep in, but he still managed to get a good night’s sleep and wake up at a reasonable hour for breakfast. Phichit, of course, accompanied him, his mood having become more sedate since dinner yesterday. He offered Yuuri a formal “good luck”, before separating from his rinkmate and coach before the competition.

Yuuri had drawn a middle slot, which was fine, since he wasn’t first. He focused on himself instead of his competition, though he did manage to catch a few performances. He wasn’t particularly close with any of the other Japanese skaters, but there were a few acquaintances he’d been competing against for years, so he tried to catch their performances. Soon enough, Yuuri was warmed up, and on the ice, handing his jacket to his coach. The day had flown by, and his turn had almost caught him by surprise.

“Now, remember, you’re already the top skater in Japan. Skate like you have been in practice and the gold is yours,” Celestino encouraged. “No matter what happens, I’m proud of you. You got back out on the ice and I know you’ll give it your best.” 

Yuuri nodded, only half-listening to his coach. Normally, this is when his nerves would overtake him. He’d already heard the murmuring from the press, wondering if he would repeat his abysmal performance from the GPF. There was a tingling of nerves, but mostly, Yuuri felt a calm determination that he wasn’t used to. This was his chance. He could prove himself, and dedicate his win to Victor. He had to. 

Celestino gave Yuuri a rough, supportive pat, snapping him out of his daydreaming. “Alright, go get ‘em!” Despite the encouragement, his coach looked concerned, clearly not used to Yuuri’s stoic indifference. Normally, Yuuri was an anxious wreck by this point. 

With a final nod, Yuuri skated into position. He looked up, past the crowd, wishing he could reach wherever Victor was.  _ This is for you _ . 

The music started, and Yuuri felt like he was almost in a trance, like he was on autopilot. Normally, Yuuri was trying not to think about everything that could go wrong. This time, Yuuri was just thinking about Victor. With his mind occupied, his body took care of the rest. Vaguely, Yuuri could hear the crowd roar when he landed his jumps, particularly those he normally flubbed in competition, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t skating for them. 

_ All my life I’ve been looking up to you. I just wanted to be your equal. I don’t know if you’ll ever see this, but if you do, I want you to feel that in my skating.  _

Before Yuuri even had a chance to process what was happening, he was done. He was stopped in his final position, breathing heavily and blinking in confusion. He’d never skated like that before. Sure, he knew he hadn’t been perfect, but he’d also never been able to perform like that without his mind turning against him. 

The crowd’s cheers brought Yuuri back to himself, too loud to ignore this time. He broke his final pose, waving and bowing to his audience. Then, he was skating back to Celestino, who was grinning widely. 

“That was amazing! I’ve never seen you perform like that!” The coach praised, handing Yuuri his skate guards. 

The two of them made their way to the kiss and cry, Celestino looking beyond pleased with his student. Yuuri had to squint to read his scores when they were announced, because he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was a personal best for him. Cameras were flashing, and Celestino was cheering. Somewhere behind him, Yuuri could hear Phichit cheering as well. That brought a small smile to his face. Despite everything, his friend was still cheering him on. Sometimes, it felt like he didn’t deserve Phichit’s friendship. 

Yuuri shook the thought from his mind as he and his coach stood up. He waved at the cameras again, offering a polite greeting for his fans and his family that were surely watching back home. There was a brief stab of guilt as he remembered that he was avoiding them so they wouldn’t ask about Victor, but he quickly pushed that feeling down. He didn’t have time to think about that right now.

It wasn’t like Yuuri hadn’t been in first place before, or even that he’d never won a competition. He just wasn’t used to feeling so calm about it. Now, he just had to do it again for the free skate. After a brief press conference, Yuuri was released to go clean up and eat dinner. It was a brief trip to their room, but Yuuri couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief when he was safe behind the door. Phichit didn’t seem to notice the chill that ran down Yuuri’s spine. Yuuri shook off the feeling, closing the door to the bathroom and stripping off his clothes. He always hated how sweaty and gross he felt after a competition. He turned the water on, shifting awkwardly as it took an unfortunate amount of time to heat up to a comfortable temperature. 

It was strange to think about how normal his life was right now, despite Victor still being missing. Russian Nationals was starting tomorrow, and it would be the first time in at least a decade without Victor there. There was sure to be some kind of dedication to the missing skater, perhaps a tribute from a rinkmate, but the competition would go on. People would skate, and Victor wouldn’t be there. Someone would win, and Victor wouldn’t be there. Of course, Yuuri hadn’t expected the world to stop because Victor was missing, but it still felt odd to think about how nothing really changed, despite the best skater in the world being abducted at a major competition. Sure, there was a little bit of increased security at this event, but nothing that really disrupted anyone’s life. It was like Victor’s disappearance had no effect on the world at all. 

Yuuri soured at the thought. That was exactly why he was doing this. No matter what happened, Yuuri wouldn’t let Victor fade from the world. He looked up at the now fogging mirror, catching sight of his reflection. Tomorrow, he was going to win. Tomorrow, he would be asked how he managed to make a comeback after the GPF. He had to be ready.

With a deep breath, Yuuri whispered, “Victor Nikiforov has always been my inspiration for skating.” 

\---------------------------------------

To the delight of his fanbase (which Yuuri was still surprised existed at all), Yuuri managed to redeem himself after his GPF disaster. With another personal best for his free skate, Yuuri took gold without any challenge. Celestino was ecstatic, showering his student with praise. Yuuri was proud, of course, but mostly he felt satisfied, like he’d finally been able to do something worthy of Victor. He kept that particular thought to himself. 

After the medal ceremony, where Yuuri had to practically fend off the very enthusiastic silver medalist, the top three skaters sat down for the press debriefing. Yuuri squinted as the cameras flashed in front of him. He could hear reporters yelling his name, clearly all wanting a piece of the comeback story. Yuuri scanned the crowd, pointing to a familiar face to ask the first question.

“Skater Katsuki,” the newscaster Moorka started, a reassuring smile on his face, “congratulations on your win today! I’m sure I speak for everyone in the room when I say how pleased we are to see that you decided to keep skating this season.”

There was a murmur of agreement in the room, the loudest of which came from the silver medalist beside him. Yuuri felt bad for not remembering the skater’s name. His performance had been entertaining, and the red streak in his hair certainly made him stand out. Yuuri had just been so focused on himself, and Victor, that he really hadn’t looked at any of his competitors. There was a brief feeling of shame as Yuuri realized how self-absorbed he’d been, and he made a mental note to pay attention as the silver and bronze medalists had their names called.

“Thank you, Morooka.” He nodded to the reporter to continue with his questioning.

Morooka nodded in return. “Your successful return has many of us wondering; what changed? I think it’s safe to say that the Katsuki Yuuri we saw on the ice today was not the same skater we’ve seen in past seasons.” 

Yuuri swallowed hard. “Well, a lot of hard work.” His comment resulted in a few chuckles. “And...finding my inspiration.” 

“Can you elaborate?” Another reporter asked, one Yuuri recognized from previous competitions. 

_ Here we go _ . Yuuri took a deep breath. It would be just like he practiced, no different. Except for the fact that he now had a large audience in front of him, staring expectantly, it was exactly the same. Another deep breath to steady himself, and Yuuri started his explanation. “Victor Nikiforov has always been my inspiration for skating.” 

As soon as Yuuri said Victor’s name, curious murmurs and questions started erupting from the group. Yuuri ignored them, continuing his speech. “Victor is the reason I started skating competitively.” He’d never told this story to the public before, but there was no sense in holding back now. “I’ve always looked up to him, tried to emulate him, and wished I could stand beside him on the podium. It was my dream to meet him on the ice, as equals.” 

More murming, but Yuuri wasn’t going to stop now. “When Victor was taken, I didn’t know how to react. We don’t know each other personally, but it feels like I’ve known him my whole life. I couldn’t imagine skating without Victor, because even if we rarely shared the same ice, his presence in the skating world has always been a sure thing. I think a lot of us who grew up watching Victor skate are probably feeling this way.” Yuuri took a pause to collect his thoughts. The room was watching him, microphones held forward and foreign media translating his every word. “Victor is important to me, as a competitor. As a fan. And wherever he is out there, I want him to know that people are thinking about him. I want him to know that he won’t be forgotten, even if the world keeps turning in his absence. That’s why I’m dedicating this season to Victor, and why I’m going to give it everything I’ve got to give him a worthy performance!” 

His voice rose in intensity on his last statement, and he realized he’d even stood up to emphasize his point. Awkwardly, Yuuri sat back down, as the room silently processed his declaration. Yuuri caught sight of Phichit in the audience, staring up at Yuuri with an unreadable expression. Their eyes met, and Phichit started to mouth something to him. Yuuri wasn’t able to comprehend what his friend said, because moments later, the room exploded with questions. Fortunately, the media remained civil, despite their obvious eagerness. Yuuri pointed at a reporter a few rows away from him that he didn’t recognize.

“What does Mr. Nikiforov’s coach, Yakov Feltsman, think about this dedication?” 

“I don’t know,” Yuuri admitted. “I haven’t spoken with coach Feltsman.” He pointed to the next reporter.

“Are you using Victor Nikiforov’s disappearance to fuel your performance?”

Yuuri frowned at the implication. It was another man that he didn’t recognize, but he looked foreign. “I’m just doing the best I can to skate in a way that I hope would make him proud. I hope that when people see me skate they remember that Victor is still out there, and they don’t give up hope.” The reporters loved that. There was frantic scribbling, no doubt quoting him directly. For the next reporter, Yuuri made sure to point to a woman he recognized. He didn’t know her quite as well as Morooka, but she’d been following his career for nearly as long.

“Does your theme--”

The reporter was interrupted by the sound of a throat clearing. All eyes turned toward the source, which was a short, pudgy man wearing a mischievous expression. When he spoke, Yuuri couldn’t place the accent, but he guessed it was something European. “Mr. Katsuki, is it true you were the last person to see Victor Nikiforov alive?” 

If Yuuri’s speech caused a commotion, the man’s question caused an uproar. Yuuri glanced helplessly at Celestino, who was shouldering his way through the crowd to get to his student. He probably should have kept quiet, but when he glanced over at the reporter that had asked the question, the man looked far too pleased, like he was hoping to cause mayhem in the room. Yuuri couldn’t help himself. 

“Excuse me,” Yuuri called into the mic, more forcefully than he usually spoke. A hush fell over the room once more as all the eyes turned back to him. Even Celestino paused, surprised by his student’s boldness. “The last person to see him ‘alive’?’ Are you implying Victor is no longer alive?” 

The man looked shocked that Yuuri was talking back to him. “If you--”

Yuuri didn’t let him finish. “Victor is still out there somewhere, very much alive.”

This time, the reporter managed to get a word in. “You seem quite confident about that fact. Does this have something with you allegedly being the last person to be seen with him? Do you perhaps have some inside knowledge?” 

“I just meant--” This time, it was Celestino that cut Yuuri off. He’d finally made it to the stage, and he had his hand covering the mic.

“My skater will not be taking any more questions at this time. And in the future, questions should remain relevant to skating,” Celestino grumbled, turning Yuuri’s microphone off so he couldn’t say anything else. He gestured for Yuuri to follow him away from the press, who were displeased to have such a juicy story snatched away from them. He heard the protests as Celestino led him out of the room, past the security that had been added in the wake of Victor’s abduction. They only paused so Phichit could catch up.

Once they were alone, Celestino made a frustrated noise. “Yuuri, what were you thinking? Engaging with vultures like that. He was baiting you, trying to paint you as a villain to sell stories.” 

“I know,” Yuuri admitted. “I’m sorry.” 

Celestino crossed his arms. “What’s going on with you? You usually don’t let people like that rattle you.” 

Yuuri glanced at Phichit, who was biting his lip like he was dying to tell Celestino what was going on with Yuuri. Fortunately, the younger skater kept quiet, taking a few steps away to let the two of them have a little more space. He didn’t know what else to say, so Yuuri looked away from his coach and murmured, “I don’t know.”

The coach sighed heavily. “Yuuri, I know this has all been hard on you. No one will blame you for taking a break. Maybe we should reconsider finishing the season.”

“No!” Yuuri protested. “I actually have a chance if I keep skating like this, and I know I can continue to skate better!” 

“I don’t doubt you can, but I’m worried about you,” Celestino admitted. “A gold medal isn’t worth sacrificing your health.” 

“I’m not,” Yuuri promised, even though he knew it was a lie. “I’m just focused, that’s all.” 

Celestino only seemed partly convinced, but he relented. “If you say so. I know Victor is important to you, but if you get questions like that, just say ‘no comment’. Those kind of people will twist anything you say.” 

Yuuri relaxed as his coach let him off the hook. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I got a little worked up. It won’t happen again.” 

The coach nodded in approval. “Glad to hear. Now, go have some dinner and celebrate your win!” He shooed his skaters away so he could tend to his own business. 

Now that Yuuri was alone with Phichit, he could feel his rinkmate’s eyes practically burning holes in his clothes as he stared. “Go ahead and say whatever it is your thinking,” Yuuri prompted, starting down the hallway without looking at Phichit. With the weird atmosphere between them, he wasn’t expecting that they would go out to dinner. His plans were to shower and order room service while he looked over some of the case notes he had on his phone about Victor. 

“Oh  _ now  _ you want my opinion?” Phichit snarked. 

Apparently they were going to jump straight into their argument again. “No, but I know you’ll give it to me anyway,” Yuuri retorted. 

Phichit huffed, speeding up so he could walk beside Yuuri. “Ok, fine. I think your obsession with what happened to Victor is unhealthy and unrealistic. You’re not going to find him.” 

“So you’ve said,” Yuuri replied tersely, “multiple times.” 

Phichit didn’t miss a beat. “And you still don’t seem to hear me.”

Yuuri turned on his friend, almost making them bump into each other. Phichit barely managed to skid to a halt in time. “I hear you, I’m just choosing not to listen. Why can’t you just have my back? You’re supposed to be my best friend.”

Phichit’s annoyed expression turned more foul. “It’s because I’m your best friend that I refuse to have your back. I won’t support you blindly while you do something stupid and reckless. Instead, I’m going to point out what an absolute ass you’re being and try to help you see reason.” 

Both of them were raising their voices, which was drawing concerned whispers from a few younger skaters that had entered the hallway they were in. Yuuri recognized the silver medalist, whose name he had finally remembered was Minami, and a few of the other competitors. While some of their faces were young and unfamiliar, probably fresh out of juniors, others Yuuri recognized from previous competitions. 

Most of the approaching skaters looked nervous about interrupting the arguing pair, but Minami didn’t waste any time rushing up to Yuuri with stars in his eyes. “Wow! It’s really you!”

Yuuri blinked a few times, processing the sudden change in atmosphere. “I...yes?” He wasn’t sure how to respond to the enthusiastic skater.

Fortunately, Minami didn’t seem to care what Yuuri was saying, as long as it was directed at him. “Ohmygod I can’t believe I’m talking to  _ the  _ Katsuki Yuuri! I’m such a huge fan! I mean, of course I am, you’re amazing! You were so great out there today! I’ve never seen you skate like that before. I mean all of your skating is amazing but that was  _ amazing _ ! I can’t believe I got to stand next to you on the podium.” The younger skater sighed dreamily. 

“Uh, thanks?” Yuuri replied awkwardly. He glanced at Phichit, who had backed away to give Yuuri and his new entourage space, but he didn’t go far. Yuuri tried to spare more awkwardness. “Why don’t you go ahead without me?” 

Phichit rolled his eyes. “Yeah, because Ciao Ciao would be  _ so happy _ about me leaving you alone after he made me come along specifically to make sure you were never alone.” 

Yuuri couldn’t argue with that logic, even if he wanted to. He turned away from Phichit, returning his attention to Minami, who had started babbling again, and the other skaters that had tentatively approached him. They took turns politely asking for photos and autographs, except for Minami, who seemed to forget his manners in the face of his excitement. Yuuri couldn’t really understand why any of the other skaters were interested in him. His career really wasn’t that exciting. Still, Minako would kill him if she ever found out he was rude to fans, so he took time to pose with each one of them, and signed personalized autographs. Afterall, it was what Victor would do. 

The thought of the Russian skater reminded Yuuri that he had last night’s short program to stream from Russian Nationals. It would be strange without Victor there, as the Living Legend was really his main reason for watching every year, but it felt even more strange not to watch. He tried to remind himself that many of the skaters he would see would be his competition later in the season. Plus, Yuri would be skating. He’d received a text from the young skater asking if he would have a chance to watch. Yuuri had promised to try. 

“--and then your quad sal! Wow! When did you get so good at that?” Minami looked up at Yuuri expectantly, and Yuuri realized he’d missed another monologue from the silver medalist. 

“Oh. Uh, I’ve been practicing a lot recently,” Yuuri explained. “It was important to me that I did well at this competition.” 

Minami nodded in understanding. “Because of Victor, right? What you said was so moving.” 

Yuuri could see Phichit scowling out of the corner of his eye, but he ignored his friend. “Yeah. Plus, I felt pretty awful after the GPF, so I really wanted a chance to redeem myself after my failure.” 

Minami gasped, like he’d just heard the most offensive statement in the world. “Failure?! You’ve never been a failure! You’re amazing!” He shook his head. “I know you didn’t skate as well as you normally do, but you were still the 6th best skater in the world!” 

It had been one thing to hear that from his coach, but it was another thing entirely to hear it from someone who claimed to be a fan. And even more shockingly, the other skaters seemed to be nodding along in agreement. Did he really have this much support? It certainly didn’t seem like it on the skating forums he frequented. All he’d seen after his humiliating defeat was commentary about how he should retire. Granted, most of the chatter had been about Victor’s disappearance, but the minimal conversation about the competition itself seemed to have multiple opinions that Yuuri should stop skating. 

“That means a lot,” Yuuri replied honestly. “I appreciate your support.” 

A few coaches appeared at the end of the hall, trying to round up their skaters. They all took the time to thank Yuuri, and he thanked them in return for believing in him. Minami insisted on one more picture before he left, but his coach’s exasperated voice eventually got his attention and he waved enthusiastically as he returned to her. 

Surprisingly, Yuuri heard a snort of amusement behind him. Phichit covered his mouth, like he hadn’t meant to make a sound, then shrugged in response. “That kid was so enthusiastic. Like a puppy.” 

Despite the earlier tension with his friend, Yuuri couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Yeah. He seems like a nice kid, and he skated well this weekend.” 

Phichit nodded in agreement. “He did. I managed to see his free skate before yours. He’s got talent, but needs a little more time to mature.” He chuckled. “You should have seen the way he was fawning over you. I bet he has posters of you all over his wall just like you do with Vic--” Phichit cut himself off, his amusement turning back into a frown. The conversation had come back to the subject of their disagreement.

Yuuri stiffened as he braced for another argument, but Phichit just sighed in defeat. “I’m tired. I’d rather order in.” 

It was unlike Phichit to miss an opportunity to sightsee, but Yuuri was relieved. “Ok,” he agreed, then the two of them made their way back to their room in silence. 

Phichit started heading toward the stairs, then seemed to remember their earlier predicament and adjusted his course toward the elevator. Yuuri followed him gratefully, glancing uneasily at the door to the stairwell. The trip back to their room was short, thankfully, so Yuuri was peeling off his sweaty clothes and stepping into the shower without too much delay. Once he was clean, he got comfortable on the hotel room bed and started looking for a stream of the Russian Nationals. Years of following Victor’s career made it easy for Yuuri to find a few links.

Yuuri didn’t watch every competitor, but he did follow a few people that he knew, either as acquaintances, or competition. He couldn’t help the unpleasant twist in his stomach as Georgi took his turn. Without Victor, he landed himself in first place after the completion of his short program. Yuuri studied his expression, but he didn’t look overly thrilled about his placement. He smiled politely, and waved, but he didn’t overdo the celebration. Yakov Feltsman sat beside him, nodding in approval at his skater’s scores. 

Georgi remained in first place, until Yuri overtook him. Yuuri couldn’t help but smile at his friend, who smirked as his scores were announced. Yakov was barking something at him, but Yuri didn’t seem to be listening. Yuri seemed to be enjoying competing against, and beating, the senior skaters. 

  
  


A few more skaters performed, but none of them were able to overtake Georgi or Yuri. With the men’s short program concluded, Yuuri went to exit the stream, but paused as Victor’s picture appeared on screen. Of course, he’d heard Victor’s name mentioned more than once during the competition, but he didn’t speak enough Russian to have any idea what was being said. While he could usually find an English or Japanese translation of international competitions that Victor participated in, national competitions weren’t as widely broadcasted. Yuuri was guessing at what was being said, but based on the context, Yakov and Georgi seemed to be answering questions about Victor. Yuri tried to chime in a few times, but Yakov would shush him quickly. Yuuri quickly opened a second tab on his computer, trying to Google a translation of the interview. He didn’t know how long he looked, but by the time he finally gave up, Phichit was already snoring, his head turned away from the light of Yuuri’s laptop. 

Yuuri rubbed at his eyes, which had started to hurt from staring at his bright computer screen in the dark. He hadn’t even noticed that Phichit had turned the light off. Yuuri groaned, knowing that tomorrow would be another long day of travel. As he was turning his laptop off, Yuuri realized he hadn’t told Yuri that he’d seen his performance. Yuri had skated well, even against experienced senior skaters. The kid had talent. It was no wonder people called him Victor’s protege. Yuri didn’t seem to like any kind of comparison to Victor, but it was hard not to see the Living Legend’s influence in the younger skater’s movements. Spending years sharing a rink with Victor Nikiforov was bound to rub off on you. 

Yuuri put his laptop to the side, yawning and rubbing at his eyes. Before he laid down to sleep, he sent a quick text to his Russian friend.

**Yuuri** : I saw your performance. Great job! 

Yuuri had no idea what time it was in Russia, but Yuri responded immediately.

**Yuri** : It was easy. None of these losers are any competition for me. Too bad I can’t compete in the senior division all the time. I’d kick all your asses!

**Yuri** : You managed not to suck. Glad I didn’t waste my time teaching you.

Even if Yuri’s words didn’t seem kind, Yuuri was learning to read between the lines. It had been jarring at first, dealing with Yuri’s constant insults, but Yuuri had come to realize that it just seemed to be the way the teen was. Yuuri hoped he would mature sooner rather than later, because being greeted as “fatso” wasn’t exactly flattering, but he realized pretty quickly that there was very little malice in Yuri’s insults. 

**Yuuri** : Thanks :) Good luck with your free skate. I’ll watch when I get back to Detroit

**Yuri** : Cool. 

**Yuuri** : Goodnight, Yuri

There was a long enough pause that Yuuri was convinced the younger skater wouldn’t respond, but then his phone buzzed with a notification.

**Yuri** : Night. 

**Yuri** : Guess it’s not so bad sharing a name with you after all

Yuuri chuckled quietly, then plugged his phone in so it would be charged by the time he got up. Their flight was early, but not horrendously so. Yuuri managed to fall asleep, and dreamt of finding Victor and presenting him with a pile of gold medals. 

\---------------------------------------

Yuuri had barely been home 24 hours when his phone started buzzing relentlessly. The number on the screen wasn’t one he recognized, and it definitely looked foreign. Yuuri frowned, ready to end the call, but ultimately hesitated. It could be a sponsor that was trying to reach out to him directly. Usually, sponsors went through Celestino. The press, on the other hand, might try to pester Yuuri directly. Given his declaration the other day, it did cross Yuuri’s mind that this might be a nosy reporter trying to get a statement from him. 

Still, if it was a sponsor, it would be very rude to ignore the call, so Yuuri decided to answer. “Hello?” He decided to speak English, since he wasn’t sure what nationality the caller was. 

A gruff, heavily accented voice responded, “Katsuki Yuuri, I’ve been hearing much about you from my skater.” 

“I’m sorry, who is this?” Yuuri thought hard, trying to figure out who was calling him. They obviously knew him by name, but he didn’t know which skater they were talking about. 

“My apologies. This is Yakov Feltsman, Yuri Plisetsky’s coach. And...Victor Nikiforov’s coach.” The old coach seemed to stumble for a moment over Victor’s name, something catching in his voice.

Yuuri couldn’t fathom why Yakov Feltsman was calling him. What would Russia’s top coach want with him? “Oh, uh, hello coach Feltsman, how can I help you?” Truthfully, Yuuri wasn’t entirely convinced it was actually Yakov on the phone. Sure, the accent sounded right, but it was just so bizarre that Yakov would be calling him that Yuuri found himself struggling to believe it was real. 

“Congratulations on your win at Japanese Nationals. I understand why Yura is always raving about your skating,” the coach continued.

Now Yuuri  _ really _ didn’t believe it was Yakov. He couldn’t imagine Yuri ever saying anything remotely nice about Yuuri or his skating. “Uh.” 

“I also saw your press conference.” 

Yuuri gulped. If this really was Yakov Feltsman, he was probably about to get chewed out for getting so awkwardly personal about his missing student. If it was an imposter, Yuuri couldn’t imagine where he was going with this. “Sir,” Yuuri erred on the side of politeness just in case it really was Yakov, “excuse my rudeness, but I’m not entirely sure why you called me. Or how you got my number.” Yuuri couldn’t keep a hint of suspicion out of his voice. 

Yakov grunted. “I wish your manners would rub off on Yuri.” He muttered something in Russian. “I apologize for calling you so out of the blue, and at your personal number. I contacted Celestino first, but he thought this would best be a discussion between the two of us. He should have told you to expect my call.” 

Curious, Yuuri opened up his messages and sure enough, there was a text from his coach telling him that Yakov Feltsman was planning on calling him. “Oh! Sorry about that, I must have missed his text. What did you want to discuss?” 

“As I was saying,” Yakov grumbled, “I saw your press conference. Your speech was quite...emotional.” 

Yuuri gulped again. He hadn’t expected Victor’s coach to see a random Japanese press conference. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.” 

“You misunderstand me. I was moved by what you said.” Despite the coach’s declaration, his voice remained gruff and impassive. 

“Sir?” 

Yakov sighed, and Yuuri heard the sound of a drink being poured on the other side of the phone. There was a brief pause, and then Yakov continued. “There have been countless dedications, and tributes, and celebrations all in Vitya’s name, and I haven’t cared for a single one. But I appreciated what you said. It was honest, and not for attention.” 

“Oh. Uh, thank you,” Yuuri replied awkwardly. 

Yakov just grunted in response. “And I know that you’ve been talking with Yura. I don’t know what you’ve been saying to him, but he’s been doing significantly better since he started talking to you regularly. He seems to be handling this,” Yakov mumbled a few words, searching for the right one, “ _ situation _ better.” 

This was news to Yuuri. Yuri’s frostiness seemed to have thawed since Yuuri started talking to him, but he had no idea he was having such an influence on the teen. “I didn’t realize,” he admitted. “Yuri’s never mentioned anything like that.” 

“Of course not. He would never admit that someone else helped him.” Yakov sounded exasperated, like it was a conversation topic he’d been through many times. “Regardless, I’m very appreciative of your influence on him. He doesn’t like to admit it, but Yura has always acted like Vitya was family. I know he’s been struggling with his disappearance.” 

“I’m glad I could help,” Yuuri replied honestly. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.” 

“There is,” Yakov continued. “That’s why I called. Your coach already approved this, so it’s entirely up to you.” The coach gathered his thoughts for a moment before continuing on. “I would like to invite you to train under me, at least for the rest of this season. It would be a great...personal favor.” 

Yakov didn’t seem like the kind of person that liked to ask anyone favors, so Yuuri was shocked by the offer. “I...what?” He didn’t know how to respond.

“I realize that this is out of the blue, and quite inconvenient for you in the middle of the season, so I would waive any coaching fees.” He sighed. “Katsuki, I’m going to be honest with you. I was very concerned about Yura after Victor was taken. Whatever peace he’s found with you, I think it would do him good to have you around.” Yakov composed himself. “If you are concerned about your skating, I can send you a list of the amenities my facility has to offer. I do not plan to let you off easy just because you would be doing me a favor. If you’re here, you skate, and you skate hard.” 

Yuuri leaned back in his chair, processing. Yakov Feltsman,  _ the  _ Yakov Feltsman just offered him the chance to skate under him. For free. It was probably a little insane, switching coaches in the middle of the season, but it was an incredible opportunity. Plus, it seemed like Yuri needed him. Despite their rocky start, Yuuri was starting to grow fond of the teen. If he could help the kid out, and get one-on-one instruction time with one of the best skating coaches in the world, it seemed like a win-win scenario. Plus, Yuuri had a feeling Yakov wouldn’t baby him as much as Celestino. Celestino was a good coach, but he didn’t like to push his skaters too hard. Yakov certainly didn’t have a reputation for coddling his skaters. Another plus was that Yuuri would be in Russia. He would be around Victor’s rinkmates. What better way to investigate Victor’s case than to go back to where the abduction had happened? Well, not the same city, but being in the same country was at least a good start.

It didn’t seem like there was a reason to say no. “I appreciate the offer, and I accept.” 

“Excellent.” Yakov hesitated, then added, “There is...one more thing. One more favor I would ask of you.”

“Yes?” 

“Do you like dogs?”

Yuuri blinked a few times, caught off guard by the question. He must have heard Yakov wrong, or maybe something was lost in translation. “I’m sorry sir, I think I misheard you.”

“Do you like dogs?” Yakov repeated, enunciating so his words were clearer.

There was no mistaking Yakov’s question this time. “Er, yes. I love dogs, actually.”

Yakov let out a sigh of relief. “Would you be willing to stay at Vitya’s apartment and take care of his dog? She’s friendly, but none of us at the rink are dog people and we don’t know what to do with her. She just mopes around all day. I know it would break Vitya’s heart if he knew.” 

Not only was Yuuri getting a free trip to train under Yakov Feltsman in Russia, he would get to take care of Victor’s own pet poodle? And live at his apartment? His inner fanboy was screaming at him to enthusiastically accept, but Yuuri managed to keep his composure. “That would be no problem.” 

“Excellent. I’ll forward the details to Celestino. I look forward to working with you.” 

“You too, sir.” 

Without a goodbye, Yakov hung up. Yuuri’s head was spinning, processing the fact that he was going to move to Russia. He was going to skate a Victor’s rink, meet Victor’s friends, and live at Victor’s apartment with Victor’s dog. His inner fanboy aside, this was an excellent opportunity to pick up on some clues. He trusted that Yuri was telling the truth about Georgi not being involved, but Yuuri would feel better meeting the Russian skater and seeing for himself if he was as innocent as Yuri claimed. 

Yuuri looked up at his posters of Victor, his eyes settling on the one that had become his one-sided conversation partner. “One step closer to finding you.” 


	4. Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri moves to Russia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiii sorry this keeps taking so long, but I swear I'm almost done! I just have a little bit of filling in to do and then this fic will be done. You'll notice that the chapter count has been set! I'm guessing the final product (of part 1) will be about 95k. So thank you for your patience! This time I have a 10 week old puppy to blame for my lack of writing time...

“Are you really doing this?”

Yuuri didn’t glance up at Phichit, perfectly able to imagine his friend’s scowl without seeing his face. “Yes. Yakov asked me for a favor. Plus, it’s a really good opportunity.” He kept folding his clothes into his suitcase. 

Clearly, Phichit didn’t agree. “Switching coaches in the middle of the season seems like a terrible idea. And Yakov doesn’t even know you! You don’t owe him anything.” 

“No,” Yuuri agreed, “but that doesn’t mean I’m not willing to help out.” 

“Is that  _ really  _ what this is about?” 

_ Here we go again _ , Yuuri thought bitterly. He didn’t bother responding. Yuuri was tired of having the same argument over and over. Instead of engaging, he just kept organizing his clothes, shifting his sock pile to the side so he could fit in a few more pairs. All his clothes and skating gear were all packed up, so he just needed toiletries and any other personal items he wanted to bring. Yakov insisted that Victor’s house was fully stocked with towels, shampoo, and the like, but Yuuri felt weird about using his idol’s shower items, so he planned on packing his own. The only problem was that there was an angry Thai skater standing between Yuuri and the bathroom. 

“Are you even listening to me?” Phichit huffed. 

Standing up, Yuuri steeled himself and turned to face his roommate. “No,” He answered coldly, gesturing for Phichit to move aside. 

Phichit was not intimidated by Yuuri’s rudeness, but he did step out of the way. Yuuri tried to ignore how the younger skater was rolling his eyes. 

He  _ hated  _ this. He and Phichit never fought, at least not like this. They’d tried a few times to talk things out on the way back from Japan, and then again after Yuuri broke the news that he was leaving. None of their talks had been productive. Neither of them were willing to back down, and the tension was becoming unbearable. Yuuri would be lying if he denied part of the reason he was looking forward to training in Russia was because he and Phichit would get some space. Maybe then they’d be able to go back to normal. Phichit was his best friend, and Yuuri didn’t want to lose him. Even if right now he wanted to shake that obnoxious expression off his roommate’s face. Phichit was giving him the “Yuuri’s in over his head look”, and Yuuri did not appreciate it. 

They didn’t speak as Yuuri collected his toiletries, but Yuuri could hear his irritated huffs just outside the doorway to the bathroom. He stepped out past his roommate with his arms full. Phichit stayed out of his way. Yuuri was a light packer, so he had plenty of room to spare when he zipped up his bag. It was just in time, because Yuuri’s phone buzzed with a notification that his coach was there to pick him up. 

For the first time since Yakov called him, Yuuri hesitated. He was really doing this. He was leaving his coach, his best friend, and his home of the past 5 years to move to a country where he didn’t speak the language and barely knew anyone. The only person he knew was an angry teenager who would probably kick him in the shins if Yuuri called them friends. Still, Yuri had been surprisingly pleased about finding out that Yuuri would be sharing a rink with him. He’d expected the younger skater to protest, but instead he’d just asked Yuuri if he’d be bringing any games with him. That had to make them at least friendly acquaintances, right? 

Yuuri’s phone buzzed again, prompting Yuuri to do one last sweep of his room to make sure he had everything he needed. Phichit didn’t say anything as Yuuri put on his backpack and grabbed his suitcase and skating gear. It would be a bit of a challenge to lug everything down, but he’d manage. 

Phichit sighed. “Here, let me help you.” He grabbed Yuuri’s suitcase without waiting for a response, rolling it toward the door. 

Yuuri followed him to the elevator, then out to the parking lot where their coach was waiting. Phichit helped him load up his bags, then shifted awkwardly after closing the trunk. He opened his mouth like he wanted to speak, but ended up closing it and turning away. “See you around, I guess,” Phichit murmured as he started to walk away.

Yuuri couldn’t take it. “Phichit.” His roommate turned around, and Yuuri tentatively opened his arms for a hug. 

Phichit didn’t hesitate to run back to Yuuri, squeezing him tightly. “Just...don’t do anything stupid, ok?” 

Yuuri squeezed him back. “Ok.” 

They separated, and Phichit offered him a watery smile. “Keep in touch, alright?” Phichit asked tentatively. 

“I will,” Yuuri promised. Things weren’t completely fixed between them, but there was a weight off Yuuri’s chest as he climbed into the passenger seat of his coach’s car. If he’d left without getting a real goodbye from his best friend, he wasn’t sure how he’d cope. The next time he’d see Phichit would be at 4CC, and they probably wouldn't have that much time together. Yuuri would be with Yakov and his team, and Yakov wasn’t known for giving his skaters a lot of free time. 

Phichit waved as Celestino’s car pulled away. Yuuri returned the gesture, then leaned back into his seat with a sigh. Celestino made a sympathetic noise. 

“This is going to be tough, but I think it will be good for you.” 

Yuuri nodded in agreement. “I think so too.” He glanced over at the Italian man. “Coach?” 

“Hm?”

“Thank you for everything. I wouldn’t have gotten this far without you,” Yuuri said sincerely.

Celestino smiled. “It’s been a pleasure working with you. I hope you kick butt the rest of the season.” 

They hadn’t discussed if Yuuri was going to return to Detroit after this season. He wasn’t bringing all of his stuff, just in case, but his plans were still up in the air. Yakov was taking care of rent, since he’d asked Yuuri to move in the middle of his lease, so that wasn’t a concern. The unspoken question was whether or not a certain Russian champion would be returning. Yuuri wouldn’t be needed if Victor came back, and there probably wouldn’t be room for him. He’d have to make sure that his time with Yakov was as productive as possible. 

“I will,” Yuuri promised. 

The rest of the drive, and the flights, were thankfully uneventful. Having just flown internationally a few days prior, Yuuri’s internal clock was already a mess, so he struggled to sleep on the flights. By the time he arrived at his destination, he was practically dead on his feet. He was so tired after going through customs, he thought he imagined the scowling blond teenager waiting for him at the baggage claim. 

“Yuri? What are you doing here?” 

The teen looked up from his phone. “I just  _ love  _ spending my time in disgusting airports for fun,” he snarked. “What the fuck do you think I’m doing here?” 

“You’re here to get me?” Yuuri questioned. 

“Duh. Yakov’s waiting outside, let’s go.” Yuri didn’t bother to help with Yuuri’s luggage, gesturing for the older skater to follow him. 

Yuuri readjusted his grip on his luggage, chasing after Yuri. Yuri led him through the airport, out into the frigid Russian air. Yuuri shivered, wishing he’d had a chance to put a thicker jacket on. He hadn’t expected to be whisked away as soon as he arrived, and Yuri certainly wasn’t stopping to wait for him. In fact, Yuuri was worried that Yuri would disappear if he lost pace. 

Eventually, Yuri approached a car, tapping on the trunk. It opened, and he gestured for Yuuri to put his bags in. Yuuri piled his luggage into the trunk, while Yuri climbed into the car. Yuuri joined him as soon as all of his personal items were settled. He was surprised that Yuri had climbed into the backseat, rather than up front, but he didn’t bring it up. Yakov was sitting in the driver’s seat, glancing at Yuuri through the rearview mirror. 

“Thank you for coming.” Yakov’s voice was just as gruff as Yuuri had heard in interviews, but he sounded genuine. 

“It’s no problem,” Yuuri insisted. 

Yakov nodded curtly, pulling away from the curb. Yuri was texting away, not paying any particular attention to Yuuri. There was a news report on the radio that Yuuri couldn't understand with such a rudimentary grasp of the Russian language. He’d Googled how to say a few basic phrases before he left, but he definitely had no idea what was being said in a lengthy news report. As awkward as the atmosphere was, Yuuri was glad he didn’t have to make small talk with Yuri or Yakov. Yakov asked him the occasional question about his training, or if he needed anything, but he didn’t try to start a conversation. 

Yuuri was content to take in the sights of the city. He didn’t know where Victor’s apartment was in proximity to the airport, so he didn’t want to miss the opportunity to check out where he’d be living for the foreseeable future. They drove by the rink, and Yuuri found himself feeling excited. Despite the circumstances that brought him here, this was an amazing opportunity. Yakov Feltsman trained some of the best athletes in the world at this facility, and Yuuri would get to experience it. 

It turned out that Victor didn’t live far from the airport, or from the rink. They hadn’t been in the car for very long when Yakov was pulling up to an apartment complex. Based on the drive, it seemed like it would be a short walk to the rink, which Yuuri was thankful for. He didn’t want to try to navigate the streets in a foreign country where he didn’t speak the language. 

Yakov parked, then turned the engine off. He and his passengers got out, and Yakov grabbed one of Yuuri’s bags from the trunk. Yuuri grabbed the rest, until Yakov barked at Yuri to be polite. Grumbling, Yuri offered to carry Yuuri’s backpack, which was the lightest item he had. 

Yuuri found himself holding his breath as they entered the building, afraid he’d have to explain to Yakov Feltsman why he refused to take the stairs. Fortunately, Victor’s building had an elevator. Actually, it wasn’t all that surprising considering how fancy the entryway was. There was even a doorman! Yakov introduced him to Yuuri, explaining that Yuuri would be living in Victor’s apartment and taking care of Makkachin. The man nodded politely, since his English was limited. 

Yakov led them to the elevator, selecting the button for Victor’s floor. The elevator dinged when they reached their destination, and Yuuri followed Yuri and Yakov down the hall. Yakov stopped outside a door that had a dog bone shaped welcome mat, then unlocked it. They were immediately greeted by the sound of nails clicking excitedly on wood, followed by a wagging tail and a few happy yips. A chocolate brown poodle, who Yuuri recognized as Makkachin, greeted them all, although she seemed to deflate quickly after her initial excitement. The poodle sniffed Yuuri curiously, but it didn’t take long for her to lose interest and retreat forlornly to a dog bed placed next to the couch. She spun around a few times, then curled up in a ball with a sad sigh. It broke Yuuri’s heart. Was this what Vicchan was like when he was waiting for Yuuri? The thought almost made Yuuri break down right there.

“She’s usually such an enthusiastic dog,” Yakov explained, “but she’s been so down since Vitya was taken.” He shook his head sadly. 

If Yuuri was going to be taking care of her, he would do everything in his power to make her as happy as possible. She seemed like such a sweet dog, it was awful to see her so depressed. “Poor thing,” Yuuri commented. 

Yakov nodded in agreement. For someone who claimed he wasn’t a dog person, he seemed to care a lot about the poodle’s well-being. “Yes. Well. Let me show you around.” He gestured for Yuuri to follow, still dragging Yuuri’s suitcase along. “The layout is simple. Kitchen. Bathroom. Bedroom.” He pointed to each location as he spoke. “Make yourself at home.” He rolled the suitcase into the bedroom, setting it beside the bed.

Yuuri followed, blushing at the realization that he’d be sleeping in his idol’s bed. Victor’s room, and the rest of his apartment, was surprisingly sparse. Other than some pictures of Makkachin, and one of Victor and Chris, there wasn’t much decorating. To Yuuri’s immense surprise, Victor’s collection of gold medals was nowhere to be found. If Yuuri had as many medals as Victor, he’d have them proudly displayed somewhere. Maybe they were at Victor’s rink? It just seemed odd that there wasn’t a single skating picture or medal anywhere. Just blank walls with the occasional piece of abstract art. Sure, everything looked  _ expensive _ , but it didn’t look homey. 

Yuri dropped Yuuri’s backpack carelessly on the floor beside them. “I’m starving. Can we order food?” 

Yakov scowled at his student. “The boy’s been here 2 minutes, give him some time to adjust!” 

“It’s alright,” Yuuri insisted. “I could use some dinner after all that travel.” He offered a reassuring smile. 

Yakov shook his head. “I unfortunately cannot stay. I will give you the instructions for Makkachin’s care, but I have paperwork that desperately needs to be done. Yura, I can drop you off on the way.” 

Yuri looked displeased, so Yuuri decided to make an offer. “Er, Yuri you can stay for dinner if you want. I won’t be able to read any of the menus or anything, so I could use some help.” 

Yuri shrugged. “Fine.” 

Yakov grunted in approval, then motioned to Yuuri to follow him back to the kitchen. He showed Yuuri where Makkachin’s food was, along with her toys, treats, and leash. He explained her schedule and handed Yuuri a sheet of paper with information about the nearest emergency vet. Despite her age, she was a healthy, active dog, so her care wasn’t particularly complicated. 

“Take the next few days off to adjust, but then I expect you at practice on time, just like the rest of my skaters,” Yakov warned as he put his coat back on. “You may be doing me a personal favor, but I will not let you waste time sitting around.” 

“I understand, sir.” 

Yakov looked pleased. “Good. Have a good night, Katsuki. Yura.” With a final wave, the old coach was out the door, leaving Yuuri and Yuri alone.

Yuuri turned back to the younger skater. “So…” 

“I’ll order food. You’re paying!” Yuri insisted. 

Yuuri chuckled. “Alright.”

He let Yuri order food for them, calling Makkachin over for a quick walk while they waited. The poodle ambled over to him, her tail drooping sadly. He patted her head encouragingly, cooing in Japanese. Yuuri clipped the leash on, and Makkachin followed him obediently out the door, down the elevator, and back outside. She did her business, and walked politely around the block with Yuuri, even though he could tell she wanted to go back home. Poor girl was probably hoping her owner would show up. 

When Yuuri returned, Yuri was sprawled out on the couch, looking comfortable. Yuuri unclipped Makkachin’s leash, and she returned to her place on the dog bed. He took off his shoes and hung up his coat, then sat down in the lounge chair in the living room. 

To Yuuri’s surprise, Yuri didn’t waste any time starting up the conversation. “Have you figured anything out?” 

It took Yuuri’s brain a moment to catch up to what Yuri was asking. “Ah, no. I mean, I feel like I’ve ruled out a lot of people, but I haven’t found a suspect. Other than--”

“Ugh don’t say Georgi,” Yuri responded with an eye roll. “We already talked about that.”

“I was going to say that I planned to look into some of the coaches of the top 6 senior men’s skaters at the GPF,” Yuuri explained. “Although are you  _ sure _ about Georgi?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Yuri snapped. “But your other idea doesn’t suck. Let me in on it.” 

Yuuri frowned. He’d already involved the teen probably more than he should have. Was it really wise to drag a 14 year old into this mess. “I don’t know…”

Yuri narrowed his eyes. “I told you, Victor is  _ my  _ rinkmate! You don’t even know him!” 

“I know,” Yuuri relented. “But I don’t want to get you in trouble.” 

Yuri tsked. “Oh please, like you’ll be able to figure this out without me. You’ve had all this time to think about it, and  _ Georgi _ was the best suspect you could come up with? You should be begging for my help!”

“I’m sure you’re perfectly capable--”

“I’m more than capable!” Yuri snarled. “I bet I could get a copy of the security tape from the hotel.”

Yuuri froze. “What?” 

“They sent Yakov a copy. He kicked me out before I could see it, but I know he has it,” Yuri explained. 

“Why did they send it to him?”

Yuri shrugged. “Hell if I know. I heard him make a fuss on the phone until they did.” 

_ Well that doesn’t seem legal, _ Yuuri thought. But oh, was it convenient. “You really think you could get a copy?” Even though Yuuri had seen it, he’d only watched it once, so there were definitely details he could be missing. 

“Of course I can,” Yuri insisted. “But only if you promise to let me be more involved!”

With a sigh, Yuuri relented. “Fine.”

Yuri grinned triumphantly. “Good. Because I’ve been doing some work myself. Let me show you.” He pulled out his phone, showing Yuuri his notes. Yuri translated his written words into English, and Yuuri was impressed. It seemed like the start of a good partnership.

\---------------------------------------

“Can you help me learn how to do a quad flip?” 

Yakov pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why?” 

“I want to skate Victor’s free skate as my exhibition at Worlds. I practiced a bit in Detroit, but I can’t get some of the jumps,” Yuuri explained.

Yakov sighed, shaking his head in a way that didn’t look like a “no” to Yuuri, but indicated he was feeling a little exasperated. “That’s really what you want to spend your energy on?”

Yuuri nodded. “It’s important to me. I...I figured I could put it into my regular programs too. I’ll just need some help changing the jump composition.” 

“Damn straight you do,” Yakov agreed with a snort. “Cialdini is a great coach, but these programs aren’t going to help you reach your potential. At least, not without making some changes.” 

“I know,” Yuuri agreed. “I haven’t been open to it in the past, but I am now. I want to do my best this season. I want to win.” 

Yakov looked pleased. “Good.” He thought for a few moments, sighing as he made his decision. “Yes, I suppose I can teach you the quad flip. It will be good for you to have another jump in your repertoire, anyway. But,” the coach warned, “I’m not putting it in competition until you’re ready.” 

“Understood, sir.” 

“If only my other skaters were this agreeable,” he mumbled grumpily. His expression soured. “Well, what are you waiting for? Get back out there and get to work!” 

“Yes, sir!” Yuuri skated off, continuing his warm up. 

True to his promise, Yakov worked Yuuri hard. He spent most of that day with Yuuri, assessing his strengths and weaknesses, and making him run drills. He wasn’t cruel, but he was blunt, and harsh at times. Yakov expected Yuuri to always be giving his full effort on the ice, and made Yuuri run reps that had even his stamina at its limits. However, he fully enforced break time, even snarling at skaters that he didn’t feel were adequately hydrating. Yuuri found that while Yakov was still completely terrifying to him, he did like the old coach. Behind his rough exterior, it seemed like he genuinely cared about his skaters. Sure, he pushed them past their limits, but not to the point that they’d get injured. His insistence on starting Yuuri’s new jump training in a harness was proof enough of that. It had been ages since he trained like that. Yakov even insisted on drilling the quads Yuuri knew in the harness as well, mostly so he could pick apart Yuuri’s technique.

By the end of the first week, Yuuri was more worn out from practice than he’d been in years. Celestino certainly didn’t let him slack, but Yakov’s training was on a whole other level. When he got back to Victor’s apartment at night, Yuuri barely had the strength to shower and walk Makka. The poodle’s energy still seemed to be quite low, so she didn’t seem to be upset about their walk being cut short. 

Every time his alarm woke him, Yuuri felt like he’d been hit by a truck. All of his muscles were achy in a way they hadn’t been since he’d first started training professionally. No wonder Yakov had so many top skaters. It made practice harder, when he already felt like he could barely move, but he still made progress. Yakov focused more evenly on his other skaters as Yuuri settled in, so Yuuri was working with some of the assistant coaches throughout the day. They at least seemed understanding of the fact that Yuuri wasn’t used to their training regime yet. He had a feeling they were going easy on him when Yakov wasn’t looking.

Off-ice training was just as demanding. Dance, cross conditioning, and even yoga. It was a really well-balanced training program, and although Yuuri was left in the dust for the first few weeks, he found himself catching up to his new rinkmates rather quickly. He also found himself learning to enjoy their company. Yuri was warming up to him (in his own way), and Yuuri found that he also really liked spending time with Mila and Georgi. The other skaters at the rink were nice, but he didn’t bond with them the same way as he did with those three. 

It was common for one of them, usually Mila, to call him over to eat with them during lunch. Today was no exception.

“Yuuri!” Mila called out, waving at Yuuri from across the dining area. 

Yuuri made his way over to her and Georgi, sitting down on the opposite side of the table from the two of them. Now that he’d been spending more time with Georgi, he felt guilty for suspecting him. Yuri was right about the guy being a total sap, but it was kind of endearing. Also a little sad, if Yuuri was being honest. Georgi was currently whining over yet another girlfriend (Yuuri had lost track of how many he’d had since he’d arrived) that broke it off with him. 

“I just thought she was ‘the one’,” Georgi lamented. “My beautiful Ekaterina…” 

Mila rolled her eyes at Yuuri, when Georgi was too busy frowning at his lunch to notice. “Gosha, you only went on a few dates. How would you even know?”

“It’s a feeling!” Georgi insisted, holding a hand over his heart. “When you’re with the one you’re meant to be with, your other half, your heart just knows.” 

A tray clattered beside Yuuri, startling him. “That’s what you said about the last one,” Yuri growled as he plopped down next to Yuuri. “And the one before that.”

“Well, I was obviously wrong, but this time I know for sure!” 

Yuri flicked a piece of his lunch at Georgi. “You said  _ that _ about the last one too!”

“What Yura means,” Mila interjected, glaring at Yuri, “is that you should be more careful about who you open yourself up to!”

“How am I supposed to resist when she makes everything feel so right?” Georgi lamented with a sigh.

Mila took to comforting him, switching from English to Russian. Yuuri got the impression they’d only been speaking English for his benefit anyway. He started to return to his meal, when Yuri nudged him. Yuuri glanced over at the younger skater, his eyebrow raised. 

“I got it,” Yuri whispered. 

Yuuri nodded in understanding. “Come by Victor’s tonight?” 

“Yeah.” 

They didn’t say anything else, not wanting to risk someone overhearing. If Yakov found out what Yuri had done, they’d both be in big trouble. The rest of practice was uneventful, although Yuuri found himself struggling to focus as he thought about what he would be seeing that night. Yakov snapped at him more than once to concentrate. When practice finally ended, Yuuri’s hips had new bruises blossoming all over from his falls. Yakov threatened to not let him work on the quad flip again, so Yuuri swore he would do better tomorrow. 

Yuri was already off the ice by the time Yuuri had cooled down. He was waiting for Yuuri in the locker room, playing on his phone. The teen glanced up as Yuuri entered the room, nodding at him. Yuuri returned the gesture, but they weren’t alone in the room so neither of them spoke. Georgi was filling the silence, telling anyone who would listen about his lost love. Yuuri took off his skates and changed quickly, not wanting to get caught up in another tearful hug (last time, Georgi had clung to him for at least 30 minutes). 

Once they were both ready to go, Yuri followed Yuuri out of the locker room, and they started making their way back to Victor’s. 

“Your quad flip still looks like shit, but I’m glad to see your quad sal doesn’t suck anymore,” Yuri said suddenly. 

“Oh, uh, thanks?” Yuuri responded, unsure if it was a compliment or not. “I really appreciate you helping me out.” 

Yuri grunted in response. “Yeah, well, like I said, can’t have a loser sharing my name.” 

Yuuri hummed in response. “Your programs look really strong. I look forward to competing against you next year.” 

Yuri tsked. “It won’t be much competition. I’ll wipe the floor with you!” 

Chuckling, Yuuri shrugged. “We’ll see. Believe it or not, my quad flip is actually getting a lot stronger. Yesterday was my first day trying it without the harness and I got pretty close. A lot closer than I expected, actually.”

“Did you think Victor got so good at jumps on his own? Yakov knows what he’s doing.”

Yuuri nodded in agreement. “He definitely does. I never thought I’d even be able to attempt a quad flip, let alone come close to landing it. I can get enough rotations now, I just can’t get the landing quite yet.” 

“I can’t believe Yakov is letting you do it. He won’t even let me do any quads yet!” 

“You’re so young, I’m sure he’s just looking out for you.” 

“Whatever.” Yuri scowled. “I hate being babied.” 

“Me too,” Yuuri admitted. “My old coach, Celestino, is a great coach and a great person. But sometimes, I feel like he just treated me like I was fragile. I know my anxiety is a problem, but I’m not going to break the second I face any kind of adversity.” He sighed.

“You have anxiety?” Yuri questioned, uncharacteristically soft. 

“Yeah. It gets really bad sometimes. Mostly I’ve learned how to deal with it, but sometimes it’s too much,” Yuuri explained.

“So in Sochi…?”

“It was really bad,” Yuuri admitted. “I was a mess after my dog died, and then when I bombed my free skate my anxiety went into overdrive.”

Yuri stopped walking suddenly, making a face like he was debating if he should say what was on his mind. His cheeks turned pink and he muttered, “Sorry I yelled at you,” then started walking again. 

If Yuuri hadn’t been standing right next to the teen, he wouldn’t have heard it. And based on the way Yuri was hurrying away from him, it wasn’t going to be repeated. Still, the apology made Yuuri smile. He got the impression that Yuri wasn’t great about admitting when he was in the wrong. “Thanks, Yuri.” 

Yuri didn’t turn back to look at him. “Yeah, well, don’t expect me to put it in writing or anything!” he snapped, back to his usual prickly self. 

Yuuri chuckled, in response, speeding up to catch up to Yuri. Neither of them said anything else until they were back in Victor’s apartment and Makka was taken care of. She seemed a little more lively than when Yuuri first arrived. She got excited when Yuuri came home and took to sleeping at his feet when he lounged on the couch. She was still laying in front of the door at night, but sometimes Yuuri could hear her tags jingling in the bedroom, like she had come in to see if Yuuri was still there. She was also eating better. The poor poodle hadn’t been skinny by any means, but Yakov had explained that she was a little leaner than usual before Yuuri arrive. Yakov had taken her to the vet and found nothing wrong with an extensive diagnostic workup, so they concluded that she was distressed about her owner being gone. Lately, she’d been at least finishing her meals, even if she still seemed a little lackluster. 

Makkachin wasn’t the only one adjusting. Yuuri’s first week in Victor’s apartment had been spent tiptoeing around, afraid to disturb anything. Yuri had commented that it looked like he wasn’t even living here, for how spotless he kept it. Yuuri was a fairly organized person, but he wasn’t usually this restrictive about leaving personal items out. He hadn’t even been using the blanket on the couch, and he’d been sleeping on top of Victor’s covers instead of under them. And using Victor’s shower? Forget it. He’d used the guest bathroom, until the fancy settings on the master bath’s set up called out to him. He couldn’t go back to the normal shower now that he’d experienced the water massage he’d gotten from Victor’s shower settings. 

Yuri never seemed to have an issue making himself at home in Victor’s apartment. He always plopped down on the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table. At least he was taking his shoes off now, after Yuuri scolded him. 

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss Phichit. The two of them had texted a few times, but it was still so awkward. Yuuri was enjoying having his own space to figure things out, but he missed his best friend. Yuri at least was keeping him busy. He came over more nights than not, and the two of them would rotate between trying to work on Victor’s case and just hanging out. They played a lot of video games together, which Yuuri definitely enjoyed. 

“Go grab your laptop,” Yuri demanded, as soon as Yuuri finished feeding Makkachin. 

Yuuri complied, disappearing into Victor’s bedroom to retrieve his laptop. He returned, handing it to Yuri. The computer was booted up, and Yuuri pulled out a flashdrive. He plugged it into Yuuri’s laptop, clicking around until a movie loaded on screen. Yuuri recognized the grainy security footage as soon as Yuri hit play. 

It was just liked Yuuri remembered, with some additional details that he’d forgotten. It had been a brilliant idea to get this footage again so they could go over it with a fine-toothed comb. Yuuri glanced at Yuri, who paled as Victor was knocked out. He winced sympathetically as Yuuri hit the ground, and Yuuri found himself rubbing the long healed spot where the bump had been. Yuuri had forgotten that this was Yuri’s first time seeing the footage. He paused it just as the view changed to the hallway that Yuuri’s room had been in.

“You ok? I know seeing this isn’t easy.” 

Yuri scowled. “I’m fine,” he snapped, before continuing the video.

Yuuri watched himself be carried to his room again, an unpleasant feeling twisting in his gut. He still didn’t like the idea of the attacker being in his room and undressing him. And then the attacker was waving to the camera as they left the building. Yuri was speechless, shaking slightly. 

“If you need a minute--”

“I’m  _ fine _ ,” he insisted, practically snarling at Yuuri.

“If you say so. Because I’m not fine, and I wasn’t the first time I saw this either.” Yuuri unconsciously rubbed his head again. “Seeing what happened is terrifying. Knowing what this person did, and what they had obviously planned out.” 

Yuri nodded. “It’s hard to believe,” he murmured. “That fucker  _ waved _ at the camera. It’s like they weren’t even worried about getting caught!” 

“Yeah. How long do you think they were planning this?” Yuuri wondered. 

“I don’t know. But it really does look planned out, doesn’t it?” Yuri muttered. 

“It does. They definitely knew what they were doing.” Yuuri reached over to restart the video, but paused when he saw Yuri’s distressed face. “Do you want a sec before I play it again.”

Yuri looked like he wanted to snarl at Yuuri, but instead he nodded once, just a small movement. Yuuri gave him some time to process. For a moment, Yuri looked a little sick, but he seemed to shake it off quickly. “Ok. Play it again.”

Yuuri restarted the video, and they watched again. They kept restarting it, making note of the surroundings and what the attacker was doing. Yuuri took notes while they came up with ideas and noticed new details. It was a shame that the video quality was so poor. There was only so much that they could figure out. 

On what must have been their 10th time watching the video, Yuri paused it as the attacker tied up Victor. He squinted at the screen. “What is that? It’s not rope.” 

Yuuri leaned forward, trying to get a better view. They replayed that section over and over, trying to discern what it was. “You’re right. It almost looks like...a ribbon?” He frowned. Why would the attacker be using a ribbon? “Maybe they had it on hand? Less suspicious than buying a bunch of rope, I guess.” 

Yuri shrugged. “Still weird.” He let the video play again, then paused it. “From that build, I’d say definitely a man.” He started the video again. “Jeez, the way this guy moves, I’d almost say he’s a skater. Look at how he steps away from you when you go at him. He’s so light on his feet.”

Yuuri shook his head. “Every skater that fit this description had an alibi.”

“Well, maybe not a skater then, but definitely athletic! I can’t believe he carried you up the stairs. What the fuck was that about?” Yuri kept thinking. “What about a dancer?”

Yuuri hummed in contemplation. He gasped when the realization hit him. “Yuri, you’re a genius! It’s a dancer’s ribbon! I can’t believe I didn’t recognize it.” 

“Oh, I can see that,” Yuri agreed. “But who is it? What dancer has a vendetta against Victor?”

“I don’t know. You’d probably know more than me,” Yuuri admitted. 

“Everyone loves that moron. I don’t know why anyone would do this.” 

Yuuri sighed. “I’ve been trying to figure that out too. I really thought it was jealousy, but now I’m not so sure.” He paused the video again, which had advanced to Yuuri being carried up the stairs. He didn’t need to see that again. “Regardless, I think we figured out some important information! We should tell someone.”

“I think the local police have a tip line set up,” Yuri explained. 

“That’s perfect. Can you get the number?” 

Yuri nodded. “Yeah, I can Google it. But maybe we should go in person?”

“Why?”

Yuri shrugged. “Don’t you think they’ll care more about what we have to say when they realize who we are?”

“I guess?” Yuuri didn’t think he was really anyone important, but Yuri was Victor’s rinkmate. It was probably a good idea. “Sure, let’s go.” 

Yuuri gave Makka a parting pat on the head, then grabbed his winter gear before he and Yuuri left the apartment. Yuri called a taxi for them, directing the driver to drop them off at the police station. Yuuri felt a wave of nervousness hit him as he realized what they were going to do. They’d probably get in trouble for stealing the video from Yakov, but it would be worth it to help find Victor. 

The driver dropped them off in front of the station, and Yuri led them up to a reception desk. He spoke to the receptionist in Russian, and then he and Yuuri were being led into a small, barren room. Yuuri glanced around nervously, feeling like he was in one of those interrogation rooms that he’d seen on Phichit’s cop shows. Yuri just rolled his eyes at Yuuri’s nervousness, telling him to sit still while they waited. Eventually, an officer entered the room. He was a portly man, with a heavy beard and stern eyes. Yuuri gulped as he started speaking in rapid Russian. They were really doing this.

Yuuri glanced back and forth between the officer, whose name he hadn’t understood through his accent, and Yuri. Both were speaking in rapidfire Russian, and Yuuri was only able to catch a few basic words every now and then. Yuri was scowling, and the officer looked like he was nearing the limit of his patience. 

Finally, Yuri snarled in English, “Speak English. My friend’s Russian is shit.” 

Yuuri was going to have to unpack the fact that Yuri willingly called him his friend later. For now, he just shot the younger skater a grateful look.

“Fine,” the officer agreed gruffly. He turned toward Yuuri. “As I was telling your friend, any  _ useful _ information about the Nikiforov case is welcome.”

Yuuri frowned at his emphasis on the word “useful”. He didn’t like what the man was implying. “Well, then you’ll like what we have,” Yuuri said carefully.

The officer looked at them expectantly. Yuuri swallowed hard, but Yuri didn’t seem too discouraged and explained, “We’ve been looking at the security footage over and over from when Victor was grabbed. We were able to figure out that the person that grabbed him was male, and approximately Victor’s height. Maybe a bit shorter, it’s hard to tell.”

Yuuri nodded, and continued, “He’s lean, but strong. Victor’s a top level athlete, but he was able to over-power and carry him out on his own. He must have had some kind of athletic training.”

Yuri took over again. “A dancer, maybe. He moved very purposefully and gracefully, very light on his feet. We thought maybe he was another skater, but all of the other senior men’s skaters had an alibi.” 

“The video was really grainy, so it was hard to see details, but we realized that he tied Victor up with a dancer’s ribbon. Another reason to think he’s a dancer,” Yuuri explained. 

There was a heavy silence, then the officer burst out laughing. Yuri and Yuuri exchanged a look. It was definitely not the reaction they were expecting. Yuri looked absolutely livid, while Yuuri was just confused. The officer continued to chortle, a stark contrast to the serious nature of the subject they were discussing. 

“That’s a good one. Not the most far-fetched, but still pretty good.” the officer said, still chuckling.

“What?” Yuuri and Yuri asked in unison.

“Do you think you’re the first fans to come in here with ridiculous theories?”

Yuri’s face turned a violent shade of scarlet. “Fans?!” 

“This isn’t as good as the alien abduction story, but it’s very detailed.” 

“I think you’ve misunderstood us,” Yuuri said carefully. “We--”

“I have misunderstood nothing,” the officer insisted, all traces of his earlier mirth now gone. “Do you know how many crazy fans I’ve had to deal with since I was put on this case?” He shook his head, frowning. “Ridiculous.” 

Yuri slapped a hand on the desk in front of him, jabbing a finger at the officer. “Don’t you know who we are?! Don’t you know who  _ I  _ am?!” 

The officer narrowed his eyes, leaning over the desk threateningly. “An insolent teenager about to get thrown in a cell?” 

To keep Yuri from exploding on the officer, Yuuri placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. Yuri gritted his teeth, but leaned back and let Yuuri speak. “ _ Sir _ ,” Yuuri said as respectfully as he could manage, “we aren’t trying to waste your time. Yuri is Victor’s rinkmate and I’m his...um...I met him. I mean, I was the last person to see him before he was taken.” 

The officer considered them, stroking his beard while he was thinking. Then, he reached over and grabbed a thick file, flipping through the pages. “Ah. Yuri Plisetsky,” he pointed at Yuri, then at Yuuri, “and Yuri Katsuki.” He pronounced Yuuri’s name exactly the same as Yuri’s. “I see.” He slammed the file closed, then rubbed his temples. He sighed heavily. “Look,” he said, sounding more sympathetic, “I understand that you’re worried about your friend, but barging in here with bullshit conspiracy theories isn’t going to help him.”

Yuri tried to interject, “It’s not--”

The officer held up a hand. “I assure you, we have the best detectives in the country working on this case. Victor Nikiforov is a national treasure, we all want him found safe and sound.” 

“Then you should use the information we have!” Yuri snapped.

Scowling, the officer stood up to full height. “You don’t have information, you have crazy theories. Do you think you have discovered anything that trained officers wouldn’t have figured out themselves?” 

Yuuri tried to get a word in. “If you would just--”

“Enough!” The man shouted, his face red. 

Both Yuuri and Yuri went silent. Yuri was seething, but even he seemed to know they had crossed a line. 

Without another word, the officer stood up and walked to the door. He opened it, looking at Yuuri and Yuri expectantly. “See yourselves out. If you come in here with your ridiculous theories again, I’ll have you arrested for obstruction of justice.” He gestured to the open door. “Leave the police work to the police, boys.” 

Yuri stood up so fast he knocked his chair over. Yuuri was worried he would say something that would get them into even more trouble, but he just stormed out of the room, muttering under his breath. Yuuri nodded his head politely, even though he was feeling rather disgusted with the officer’s dismissal. He wouldn’t even listen to them! Didn’t he care about finding Victor? Yuuri kept his mouth shut, following Yuri out of the building. As soon as they were outside, Yuri turned to him, grinding his teeth.

“That shithead! He wouldn’t even let us get a word in!” Yuri snarled. 

Yuuri sighed, feeling frustrated. “That definitely didn’t go like I hoped it would.” 

“Yeah no shit.” Yuri looked at him expectantly. “So, what now?” 

Yuuri shrugged. “I guess we keep doing what we were doing before. Maybe if we can figure out a suspect they’ll actually listen to us.” 

“Well, let’s get back to Victor’s then and get to work!” 

\---------------------------------------

Between spending time with Yuri working on Victor’s case and throwing himself into practice, the season was flying by. Somehow, 4CC was just around the corner, and Yuuri was even more prepared than he was at Nationals. He was landing his quad flip reliably, and thanks to Yakov’s training regimen, he was in better shape than ever. Yakov’s ex-wife, Lilia, had even offered unlimited dance studio access in exchange for Yuuri’s assistance with a few of her classes. Not only was it a great conditioning and de-stress opportunity, but Minako would kill him for not taking advantage of working with  _ the  _ Lilia Baranovskaya. 

Even Yakov was nodding in approval as Yuuri finished his final run through. “Good,” the coach grunted. “But your free leg is still sloppy on the flip! Don’t make me regret teaching you!” 

Yuuri nodded resolutely. “Ok, I’ll clean it up. Can I drill a few more?” 

Yakov waved Yuuri off. “A few more.” There was a warning in his tone, probably because he’d had to chase Yuuri off the ice before when he kept insisting on “just one more.” He wasn’t as cautious as Celestino, but he still wouldn’t let Yuuri overdo it. 

“You’re looking great, Yuuri!” Mila called out as Yuuri practiced his jumps. “I bet you’ll win gold for sure!” 

Yuuri skidded to a stop behind her, breathing a little heavy. He shrugged. “I hope so. Nationals was the most prepared I’d ever felt for a competition, and now I feel it 10 fold. I...I think I might actually have a shot.” It was hard to admit that he might be in the running for gold, but based on Yuuri’s calculations, he had a solid chance of winning if he skated cleanly. He didn’t have a great track record with pressure at competitions, but he also never had so much preparation or motivation. 

“You have more than a shot,” Mila insisted. “Right Gosha?” 

Georgi skated up beside them, nodding in agreement. “Yes, absolutely!” 

As Yuuri was about to respond, Yakov barked at them from off ice. “Gossip on your own time! Get back to work!” 

Yuuri felt a little like a kid getting called out by the teacher in class, but he didn’t let it discourage him. He returned to his practice, feeling more comfortable by the minute, until Yakov decided he’d had enough. Once he was cooled down and off the ice, Yuri intercepted him on the way to the locker room. 

“You better win this weekend, or you’ll make us all look bad!” 

Yuuri chuckled in response. “You’ll be rooting for me, right?” 

“Yeah, whatever. Not like there will be anything else to watch…” he mumbled, trying not to sound too enthusiastic. 

They said goodbye to each other, before Yuuri cleaned up and headed back to Victor’s. Makkachin was waiting for him at the door, far more enthusiastic about his presence than when he’d arrived. She jumped up on him, and Yuuri pushed her away good naturedly. Knowing the poodle would be unhappy with Yuuri’s absence, he spent the evening with her. They went to her favorite park and played fetch, and then Yuuri let her eat scraps of his dinner when they got home. That night, for the first time, she hopped up onto Victor’s bed and curled up against Yuuri. She stayed the whole night. It warmed Yuuri’s heart to know that he was making the old dog happier. The poor thing had been so miserable when Yuuri arrived. 

With Makkachin’s soft snores lulling him to sleep, Yuuri was well rested when he got up in the morning. He met Yakov at the rink with all of his gear, already dreading the long flight. Being Yakov’s only student skating at 4CC, he had a long day of travel with no one for company but the old coach. Like Celestino, Yakov refused to let Yuuri go anywhere alone. Normally, Yakov didn’t room with his skaters, but he didn’t want to leave Yuuri by himself. It didn’t surprise Yuuri, since Victor was technically under his charge when he disappeared. Despite how stoic Yakov tried to act, Yuuri was getting the feeling that Victor’s disappearance was weighing on him. He’d heard Yakov’s voice shake a few times when he talked about his missing student, and sometimes he would get a sad, far-off look on his face. Of course, the tenderness would only last a few moments before he was red in the face and screaming again. 

When they arrived at the hotel, Yuuri expected little fanfare. However, he was surprised to see a line of reporters, who all started shouting his name and flashing cameras in his face as their taxi rolled up. There were even armed guards holding the crowd back. Yuuri had never had a reception like this before. 

Yakov seemed to notice his nervousness as they stepped out of their taxi. “Just stare straight ahead and ignore them. Vultures.” He shook his head disapprovingly. “The press has been worse than usual since Sochi.”

“Are they really here for me?” Yuuri questioned. 

Yakov shrugged. “Probably. You are currently the favorite to win this weekend, plus it’s no longer a secret that you were with Vitya when…” he didn’t finish the sentence, but Yuuri knew. 

Yuuri steeled his nerves, taking a deep breath. He’d never had to deal with the press before, at least not at this level. He’d always kept his head down and never really made much of an impact in the sport, so he was mostly ignored. 

Yakov placed a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. “Just walk straight ahead. I’ll take care of everything else.”

Yuuri nodded gratefully, then handed his bags to the bellboy that had appeared to assist them. His and Yakov’s bags were loaded onto a cart, and then wheeled toward the entrance of the hotel. Yuuri followed behind, shoving his hands in his pockets so the press wouldn’t see how much they were shaking. As soon as he hit the wave of reporters, he was overwhelmed by shouting and questions. 

“Mr. Katsuki, over here! What statement are you trying to make by switching coaches in the middle of the season?” 

“How does it feel to be the last person to have seen Victor Nikiforov alive?” 

“Mr. Katsuki, how does it feel to be taking Victor Nikiforov’s place at his own rink?” 

“How do you respond to the rumors that you were involved in Victor Nikiforov’s disappearance?” 

“Are you going to crash and burn like you did in Sochi?” 

Yuuri was moving so quickly he was just short of running. There were so many voices, screaming at him and demanding answers. Was the press sensationalizing things, or did people really think Yuuri was involved in Victor’s disappearance? 

Yakov was behind him snapping at reporters, telling them to back off. “My skater will make no official comments at this time!” 

It was a relief when they made it to the safety of the hotel lobby. Yuuri could feel his pulse racing from the stress. Yakov just looked irritated, shaking his head and muttering in Russian. Was this what Victor had to deal with all the time? He always looked so calm and poised when dealing with the media. Yuuri couldn’t imagine wading through this shitstorm every time he arrived at a competition. 

“That was awful.” Yuuri shuddered involuntarily from the scrutiny. 

Yakov grunted in agreement. “Brace yourself, it will likely only get worse,” he warned. 

Yuuri winced at the coach’s ominous warning, then followed him to reception to check in. They got their key cards and followed their bags up to their room. Yuuri was just laying out his costumes, when he noticed a text from Yuri.

**Yuri** : Fair warning, Yakov snores like a bear. Wear earplugs or you’ll never sleep

Yuuri had to cover his mouth to hold back a snort of laughter. Fortunately, he had a pair of earplugs that he always brought with him to competitions, just in case he needed to block everything out. He sent back a quick thank you text to Yuri, then finished sorting out his costumes and skating gear. There was no practice time booked until tomorrow, but Yakov wanted Yuuri to at least spend some time at the hotel gym, so Yuuri spent his evening running through light workouts and floorwork. 

Very purposefully, and guiltily, Yuuri avoided looking at his phone. He had his headphones in and music playing, but he ignored every buzz and notification that he got. Phichit would likely be arriving soon, and Yuuri wasn’t ready to deal with that awkwardness. He hated that there was still a rift between them, but they hadn’t really worked anything out. Yuuri had been so busy, and was generally not good at confrontation, so nothing had changed between them. It was a weird feeling to be at a competition with Phichit but not be  _ with _ Phichit. He couldn’t help but wonder if his friend was feeling the same, but he couldn’t dwell on it. There was just too much hurt and awkwardness between them for Yuuri to deal with this weekend. He had to focus on winning, and as much as he hated to say it, thinking about Phichit would just be a distraction. They had plenty of time to still make up later, but Yuuri only had so much time this season to do what he needed to do.

Following his workout was a light dinner and a shower, and then Yuuri was settling into bed. Yakov was already asleep, snoring just as loudly as Yuri said he would. Yuuri put his earplugs in, willing himself to fall asleep. It didn’t take long, and before he knew it, Yakov’s alarm was waking them up in the morning. 

As Yuuri got ready, he once again ignored the notifications on his phone. He turned it upside down when Phichit’s name appeared on his screen. Once the competition was over he’d find Phichit and Celestino and say hi to them. He just couldn’t deal with it right now. 

When they arrived at the rink later that morning, the media was waiting for them. Yakov had been right about it only getting worse. Yuuri actually brought his earplugs with him to try and drown out some of the yelling. He could still hear them hollering at him, but it was harder to make out their questions. He caught his own name along with Victor’s name a few times, but he managed to tune it out.

The competition itself went extremely well. Yuuri’s short program was relatively unchanged from Nationals, albeit with some improvements, and he ended up in 3rd behind a skater from Canada and a skater from Kazakhstan. During the free skate the next day, Yuuri was able to make up the difference and found himself on top of the podium. It was his first gold at 4CC in his entire career. The crowd was going wild as the medal was put over his head, just like they had when he’d successfully landed his quad flip in his free skate. A quick glance at the rankings revealed that Phichit had made it into the top 10, and Yuuri smiled, genuinely pleased for his friend. 

Yakov was as stoic as ever, nodding in approval but not showing much other emotion. In fact, he’d already lectured Yuuri on what he could do better. Even as they’d sat in the Kiss and Cry and Yuuri had broken all of his own previous records, Yakov was critiquing him. 

“Yuuri! Congratulations!” 

Yuuri was just off the ice for the medal ceremony when he heard a familiar voice calling out to him. Mixed emotions swirled inside him. “Thanks, Phichit. Congratulations to you as well.” He turned to his former coach, who was standing beside Phichit. “Hi Ciao Ciao.”

“I see Russia has been agreeing with you!” Celestino grinned. “Glad to know Yakov hasn’t been going easy on you. I never thought I’d see you landing a quad flip!” 

“I don’t think Yakov knows how to go easy on anyone,” Yuuri joked, still feeling uncomfortable. Phichit was smiling, but Yuuri knew him well enough to know that he was holding back. No doubt he was still feeling the rift between them as well. 

“When do you leave? You should join us tomorrow for a meal,” Celestino offered. 

“Oh, I don’t want to intrude,” Yuuri mumbled. 

Celestino frowned. “Intrude? Yuuri, are you kidding? Of course you’re welcome!” 

“I’ll have to check with Yakov,” Yuuri replied. As uncomfortable as it would probably be, Yuuri really did miss Phichit and Celestino. It would be great to have some time to catch up with them. 

“Katsuki.” 

Yuuri turned at the sound of Yakov’s voice. He was waving him over. Yuuri realized that it was time for post-competition interviews. Yakov’s surliness had mostly kept the press at bay during the competition, but now he would have to face them full force. Yuuri said goodbye to Phichit and Celestino, promising he’d see them later, then he followed Yakov. It was surreal, to take his place at the center of the medalists. He almost pinched himself to make sure it was real. 

The first few questions were lowkey, asking about Yuuri’s transition to St. Petersburg, and how his training regimen had changed. There were a lot of comments and questions about his new jump. Plus, the Canadian skater, JJ, kept butting in to give his own opinions. In fact, the press conference went surprisingly well. Maybe it was Yakov hovering in the background, glaring at journalists that started to cross a line. 

The problem started after the conference, when Yuuri was stopped by some of the other skaters. The first few were competitors congratulating Yuuri on his gold, so Yakov stepped away to give him space. Except, with the old coach out of the way, the wolves descended. 

Yuuri didn’t know the young man that approached him, but he could tell that he wasn’t happy. He glanced around, looking for a source of his ire. The man stopped in front of him, sneering. 

“You won’t get away with this,” he snarled. 

“I...what?” Yuuri took a step back, trying to diffuse the situation.

The man stepped forward, getting in Yuuri’s face. He jabbed Yuuri’s chest with a finger. “What, like it’s a coincidence that Nikiforov disappears and then Feltsman starts coaching you? That your skating miraculously improves practically overnight?” 

“I think you have the wrong idea,” Yuuri insisted, trying to step back again.

This time, the man grabbed his shirt. “What did you do to him? Where did you take him?!” 

Yuuri tried to push him off. “Get off of me!”

The man just held him tighter. “You sick bastard!” He started shaking Yuuri.

“Knock it off!” 

Yuuri had never been so relieved to hear Yakov Feltsman’s booming voice. The Russian coach shoved Yuuri’s attacker away. “You’re done! You’ll never skate at an ISU event again!” he promised. 

The man didn’t respond to Yakov, he just turned to Yuuri, spitting in his face. “You better watch your back, Katsuki.” 

Yakov screamed after the man, while Yuuri grimaced and wiped the spittle off his cheek. He glanced around, feeling self conscious about all the eyes on him. Even worse, many of them were muttering, their eyes narrowed. Did people really think he was involved in Victor’s disappearance? Is that what people were talking about behind his back? 

“Let’s go.” Yakov placed a hand on his shoulder, leading Yuuri out of the room.

Yuuri walked past the group of whispering skaters, his head down. He didn’t miss some of the hissed insults that were thrown at him. He thought he heard Phichit calling his name, but he couldn’t bear to stop. When they exited the arena, the press was on them. Whatever good behavior they’d exhibited at the press conference was gone, and they were screaming questions about Victor’s disappearance. Yakov kept Yuuri moving, snapping at them, and rushing the two of them toward the bus that would take them back to the hotel. Even from inside the bus, Yuuri could still hear their yelling. He’d thought it was just the press trying to stir up drama by implying he was involved in Victor’s disappearance, but apparently it was a genuine theory in the skating community. Yuuri wondered how popular that theory was. 

As the bus pulled away, Yuuri closed his eyes and tried to block out the shouting from outside, and the whispering from the skaters inside the bus. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of your comments give me life. I was so close to abandoning this idea, so I really appreciate every kudos and comment that has encouraged me to keep going!


	5. Suspicion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri finds a new lead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guess what? I'm done with this story! Yay! I will update every Saturday until it's done! Sorry this chapter is a bit short but hopefully the promise of a regular update schedule makes up for it :)

The only emotion Yuuri could feel before the banquet was dread. Given what had happened at the Sochi banquet, Yuuri had already been dreading the event. There were still no leads on who took Victor, and Yuuri knew he’d be spending the whole night glancing over his shoulder. Add in the fact that apparently half the skating world thought Yuuri got rid of Victor Nikiforov to bolster his own skating and Yuuri was completely miserable. He’d tried to convince Yakov he wasn’t feeling well, but to no avail. Yakov just growled at him, insisting he needed to talk to sponsors and be polite. Yuuri knew he was right. Given his recent success, he was bound to have new sponsors wanting to talk to him. In fact, some had already emailed Yakov about wanting to meet Yuuri at the banquet. Yakov might be waiving his coaching fees this season, but Yuuri needed to think about the future. It wasn’t like he was swimming in cash or anything. Plus, his family could always use more money to keep the onsen running. 

With a defeated sigh, Yuuri finished tying his tie. He looked himself over, feeling satisfied that he was presentable. On the other side of the room, Yakov was slipping his suit jacket on and dabbing some cologne on his neck. He turned to Yuuri and offered a curt nod. Yuuri took that to mean that Yakov was ready as well. 

Yuuri followed Yakov out of their shared room, and they made their way down to the banquet hall. He couldn’t help fidgeting nervously as they waited for the elevator, not knowing what was waiting at the banquet. Yakov had assured Yuuri that he wouldn’t leave him alone or let anyone else try to pick a fight with him, but the promise didn’t calm him. By the time they arrived at the banquet, Yuuri was a mess of nerves. He’d been coming up with every possible worst-case scenario and had almost worked himself up into a panic. 

Fortunately, there was minimal response when Yuuri and Yakov arrived. Yuuri didn’t miss the hushed whispers or shifting eyes, but no one else yelled at him or approached him with hostility. Yakov immediately whisked him off to talk to sponsors, not giving him any more time to fret. Yuuri shook hands and schmoozed with countless sponsors, thanking them for their support. He was struggling to keep track of all their names, but Yakov seemed to know who they all were so Yuuri didn’t worry too much. 

A few skaters that Yuuri knew approached him and congratulated him, but most of them gave him a wide berth. Phichit, of course, wasn’t like most of the other skaters and immediately tried to approach him. As guilty as he felt about ignoring his friend, Yuuri really didn’t want to talk about what had happened after the competition, and he knew Phichit would bring it up. Yuuri made a show of sticking by Yakov, letting himself be paraded around like a prized pony.

As Yuuri was listening to a really boring story from a European sponsor, he felt a chill run up his spine. He subtly tried to glance behind him, looking for the source of his discomfort. There were a few people in his sight, some skaters and a few people he assumed were sponsors. Most of them were involved in a conversation, but briefly, Yuuri locked eyes with someone. All he had time to see was a flash of green before Yakov was clearing his throat to get Yuuri’s attention. Yuuri’s head whipped back, his focus returning to the sponsor in front of him. When he was able to sneak another look back, the green eyes were gone. 

If Sochi had never happened, if Victor had never been abducted, Yuuri would have assumed he was just being paranoid. However, knowing what kind of danger was lurking somewhere out in the world, Yuuri couldn’t disregard it. Unconsciously, Yuuri felt himself curling in on himself, trying to hide from an unseen threat. Yakov and the sponsor didn’t seem to notice, the sponsor’s idle chatter not even remotely interrupted. Yuuri kept nodding along, answering questions when appropriate. 

Eventually, the sponsor left, but not before offering a very generous sponsorship. Yuuri shook the man’s hand gratefully, while Yakov stood by looking pleased. As the sponsor walked away, Yakov nodded in approval. 

“That’s a good connection to have. He’s sponsored both Georgi and Victor for years.” Yakov nodded in approval.

“I really appreciate you setting this up,” Yuuri replied genuinely.

“Don’t be modest, your hardwork made this possible,” Yakov responded gruffly. He looked up, nodding at someone across the room. “Speaking of good connections, I have another for you.” 

Yuuri turned toward the person that had Yakov’s attention, immediately feeling uneasy. The man was lithe, with a dark beard and a cowboy hat. He was wearing a toothy, crooked smile that did nothing to put Yuuri’s mind at ease. He was accompanied by another man, who was hovering nearby with a small notebook. 

“Ah, Yakov Feltsman!” the man drawled with a heavy Texan-sounding accent. “I see your skill for finding talented skaters hasn’t diminished.” 

“You’re too kind, Mr. Dale, but it is Mr. Katsuki that deserves the credit.” Yakov gestured for Yuuri to step forward.

Cautiously, Yuuri did as he was bid. The man, Mr. Dale, didn’t waste any time, reaching out and grabbing Yuuri’s hand with both of his own. He shook it enthusiastically, moving Yuuri’s whole arm. He still wore his toothy grin, not looking even remotely put off by Yuuri’s nervousness. 

“Ah! Yuuri Katsuki, it’s a pleasure to meet you at last!” The man didn’t let go of Yuuri, still clasping his hand. “Marcus Dale, of Dale Technologies. You were really something out there!” 

“Er, nice to meet you…” Yuuri tried to pull his hand away, but wasn’t successful. Mr. Dale just held on tighter, like he didn’t want to let Yuuri go. He looked to Yakov for rescue, but the old coach didn’t seem to notice Yuuri’s discomfort. 

“Mr. Dale has been sponsoring Victor since his junior days,” Yakov explained. “He specifically asked to meet you today.”

“Oh, uh, thank you. I appreciate your support,” Yuuri replied awkwardly. 

Finally, Mr. Dale let go of his hand, but to Yuuri’s immense displeasure, he switched to placing a heavy hand on his shoulder. Yuuri winced at the contact, but managed to keep a polite smile on his face. Yakov was clearly comfortable with the man, despite the unease swirling in Yuuri’s gut. Did this man not have any boundaries at all?

A throat cleared next to them, and finally, Mr. Dale released his hold on Yuuri. “Excuse my manners!” he drawled. “This is my assistant, James Harrison.” 

The assistant, who was smiling apologetically, offered his hand to Yuuri. Yuuri took it reluctantly, but the man’s grip was gentle and didn’t linger nearly as long as his boss. It was still longer than Yuuri normally liked to maintain physical contact with strangers, but compared to the awkward interaction he’d just endured, it was bearable.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Harrison,” Yuuri offered as he pulled his hand away as politely as possible.

“Just James is fine,” James insisted. He leaned in toward Yuuri, holding his hand up to block the words from his mouth. “Sorry about him. He’s harmless, I promise. Just excited.” 

Yuuri laughed nervously. James’s eyes were sparkling, but Yuuri couldn’t quite figure out with what emotion. Fortunately, James leaned away from Yuuri’s space, although it still felt like he lingered longer than appropriate. Damn Americans and their lack of personal bubbles. He’d dealt with it all the time in Detroit. 

Yakov and Mr. Dale were discussing something that made the sponsor laugh heartily. Yuuri didn’t know what they were discussing, but judging by how Mr. Dale slapped him roughly on the back, Yuuri assumed it was about him. 

“To be honest, I never paid much attention to your skating,” Mr. Dale was saying, “and I definitely regret it! You’ve got some real talent!” 

“Thank you, sir. I’ve been working hard.” Yuuri kept smiling, even though he knew it must look obviously fake. He wasn’t sure how else to respond to the backhanded compliment. 

“Oh sure, sure. Hard work and all that.” Mr. Dale waved his hand dismissively. “But I know genuine talent when I see it! Your skating reminds me of Nikiforov’s.” He smiled thoughtfully. “Shame what happened to him.” 

Yuuri stiffened, and he noticed Yakov doing the same. “Yes...a shame,” Yakov repeated tersely. 

“Well, I’m sure all the fine lawmen in this country are doing their part to find him,” Mr. Dale continued, oblivious to Yuuri and Yakov’s discomfort. “At least in his absence there is fresh talent!” 

Just as the vein in Yakov’s neck was starting to throb, James stepped in. “What he is trying to say,” James clarified awkwardly, “is that Mr. Katsuki’s skating style is very reminiscent of Mr. Nikiforov’s.” He glared at his boss. “He meant no disrespect.”

Mr. Dale just laughed again, giving Yuuri another rough slap on the back and making him stumble. “Pardon my rudeness. I just have a fondness for talented artists.” 

Yuuri adjusted his glasses, which had been knocked askew. Mr. Dale still seemed oblivious about how offensive he was really being. Despite his apology, which was half-baked anyway, he continued to talk about Victor.

“They say you were there with him when he was taken,” Mr. Dale continued, waving a hand around nonchalantly. “What was that like?”

“Excuse me?” Yuuri was taken aback. 

Mr. Dale just kept smiling, grinning with interest. “You were there! You must have seen something. What did the kidnapper look like?”

“I--”

“How did he do it?” The sponsor continued.

“Well--” Yuuri tried to interject, but he couldn’t get a word in.

Mr. Dale’s expression turned wistful. “To overpower not one, but  _ two  _ top level athletes.” He whistled, sounding impressed. 

Yuuri clenched his fists. The man was talking about Victor’s disappearance like it was some kind of TV show drama. He didn’t seem to have any regard for how insensitive he was being. Even Yakov looked like he was ready to strangle the man. Fortunately for Mr. Dale, Yakov was far better at maintaining his temper with rich sponsors than unruly skaters. He was grinding his teeth with repressed anger, but he just cleared his throat. 

Mr. Dale didn’t get it, but his assistant stepped in. “Sir, the sponsorship for Mr. Katsuki?” 

“Oh, yes yes.” He laughed heartily. “Look at me, rambling on,” he drawled, reaching into his pocket to pull out a business card. He offered it to Yuuri. “Dale Technologies is prepared to make you a  _ very  _ generous offer. There would be the usual stipulations, photoshoots, blah blah blah.” 

To be polite, Yuuri took the card. “Thank you very much for your generosity, Mr. Dale, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to decline.”

For the first time, Mr. Dale’s smile slipped. “Come again?”

“I really appreciate the offer, but I don’t think I’m what you’re looking for,” Yuuri offered, bowing politely.

Mr. Dale scratched at his beard. “When you hear how much money I’m offering you, I think you’ll find your mind changed.”

Yuuri shook his head. “Really, I do appreciate it, but no thank you.” 

“I’m afraid I don’t understand why.” 

“Like I said,” Yuuri replied carefully, “I don’t think I’m what you’re looking for.” 

Mr. Dale frowned. “You’re making a big mistake.” He sighed. “Son, when you come to your senses, give me a call.” He pointed to the card in Yuuri’s hand, then gestured to his assistant to follow him. He nodded at Yakov as he walked away.

As they were leaving, James offered an apologetic smile, holding out a hand to Yuuri. “I hope you change your mind. I think you’re  _ exactly _ what we’re looking for.” 

Yuuri cautiously accepted the outstretched hand, shaking it politely. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he promised half-heartedly as James waved in farwell. He really didn’t want anything to do with the strange sponsor. He clearly had no manners, and Yuuri didn’t appreciate the way he talked about Victor. The kind of questions he’d asked were bizarre and unsettling. It didn’t seem like he was upset about Victor being missing at all.

Glancing toward the exit where Mr. Dale and his assistant had gone, Yuuri caught another flash of green. When he blinked, it was gone again, but the uneasy feeling was still there. What was it about this man that made him feel so off? 

Yuuri almost gasped aloud as a thought hit him. What if he felt so uneasy around Mr. Dale because he subconsciously remembered him? Was his mind trying to tell him that this was the kidnapper? He needed to find out as much about Marcus Dale as he possibly could.

\---------------------------------------

As it turned out, Yuri agreed that Mr. Dale was suspicious. 

“Ugh, I’ve always hated that guy,” Yuri mused, tossing Makka’s toy across the room.

“Really?” 

Yuri nodded. “Yeah, he always gave me a weird vibe. He liked to hang off Victor, and the one time I went to his office with Yakov he practically had a Victor shrine.” 

Yuuri winced, purposefully not mentioning how he basically had a Victor shrine of his own. “He does fit the description.” 

“And he has dance training,” Yuri continued. 

“He does?” Yuuri was surprised. “Doesn’t he own some kind of tech company?”

Makka returned her toy to Yuri, panting happily. Yuri grumbled as she dropped the slimy toy in his lap, but he picked it up and threw it again. “Yeah. I’m surprised he didn’t talk about it. He  _ always _ brings it up. Had some kind of injury that ended his dance career and then, I don’t know, I guess he got into the tech business.” 

“Hm.” Yuuri did a quick Google search, easily finding that Yuri’s information was correct. Mr. Dale’s Wikipedia page was full of information about his early life, where he did indeed suffer a career ending injury, and the tech business he took over from his parents following said injury. “I guess that’s why he sponsors athletes like skaters and dancers. I was wondering what kind of interest a tech company CEO had in figure skating.” 

Yuri grunted in response. “I knew that fucker was no good!” 

Yuuri sighed. “It’s just a feeling I have, I don’t have proof yet. After that mess with the police, I don’t want to go around accusing people without any proof.” He clenched his fists. “But something is off about him. I know it. I just don’t know why he did it.” 

“Who cares?” Yuri snarled. “All that matters is that he did do it!”

“Maybe...but I’ve been wrong before,” Yuuri reminded him.

With a shrug, Yuri replied, “Yeah you’re wrong a lot. But this time you have me, and I’m telling you that guy is no good.” 

“It does seem odd that we would both have a bad feeling about him,” Yuuri reasoned. “But what do we do about it? How do we get proof?”

“You should have let him sponsor you,” Yuri grumbled. “Could’ve gotten close to him.” 

Yuuri sighed. “I didn’t realize why I was getting a weird vibe from him until after I turned him down.” It was a good idea, and Yuuri was irked that he didn’t think about it before. “He did give me a business card. I could call him.”

“Well, what are you waiting for? Call him!” Yuri shrieked. 

“Ok, ok,” Yuuri relented, pulling his wallet out of his pocket. He dug the card out, flipping it around to find the phone number. Yuuri’s fingers hovered over the numbers on his phone. An unpleasant feeling was twisting in his stomach. Was he really going to do this? Potentially call a kidnapper and purposefully spend time with him? 

Apparently Yuuri was staring at the card too long, because Yuri grumbled at him and scowled. “What, too dumb to read now?”

Yuuri didn’t respond, still staring at the card. He wanted to help Victor, he really did. Wasn’t this what he signed up for? The reality that he might be working with a kidnapper just suddenly felt overwhelming.

“...are you ok?” Yuri mumbled. He looked a little sheepish, like he was feeling a bit guilty about slinging insults around.

Yuuri smiled reassuringly. “Yeah. Just sort of hit me what I’m about to do. It’s a little terrifying.” 

“...yeah I guess it is,” Yuri mumbled. He fidgeted awkwardly. “Uh, so are you up for this?” his voice was gentler than before. 

It only took a few seconds of thought for Yuuri to come to an answer. “Yeah. For Victor.” 

Yuri nodded in agreement. “For Victor.”

Yuuri took a deep breath, then dialed the number on the card. There were a couple rings, then the call picked up. “Marcus Dale’s office.” 

The voice was recognizable as Mr. Dale’s assistant. “Hi, uh, James? It’s Katsuki Yuuri.” 

“Oh! Hello Mr. Katsuki, how can I help you?” James sounded excited, but not surprised, to be hearing from Yuuri.

“I’ve been taking some time to think, and I would like to accept Mr. Dale’s offer, if it’s still on the table,” Yuuri said carefully. He made sure to keep his voice even, despite his nerves. 

There was the sound of paper shuffling on the other line. “Absolutely! Let me patch you in to him.” 

The sound of generic hold music briefly played over the line, and then there was a click as the call was picked up. “Yuuri Katsuki! I’ve been expecting your call. I assume you’re calling to accept my offer?”

“Yes, sir. I appreciate the offer and I would be honored to accept,” Yuuri replied in his politest tone. He didn’t want to let slip that he was up to anything.

“I know you were a smart boy,” Mr. Dale praised. “I will actually be at my St. Petersburg location on Thursday, why don’t you come by my office and we can hash everything out then?” 

Yuri raised an eyebrow in question, since he wasn’t able to hear the conversation. Yuuri gave him a thumbs up before responding to Mr. Dale. “Sure, that will work.”

“Excellent! I’ll have James send you all the information. I look forward to our partnership.”

“Thank you,” Yuuri replied just before the line cut off. The hold music was back, and then there was another voice on the other line.

“Mr. Katsuki?” Mr. Dale’s assistant picked up.

“Yuuri is fine,” he offered. If they were going to be working together, at least for show, he might as well get to know the other man. James might have information about his employer that could be useful to their work.

“Ok, Yuuri. Are you ready for the information?” James asked. 

“One moment.” Yuuri stood up and walked over to the kitchen counter, grabbing a pen and pad of paper. “Go ahead.” 

James gave him all of the information, answering all of Yuuri’s questions and directing him where to park and what floor to go to. “I’m really excited that you decided to accept,” James admitted. “You won’t regret it!” 

“I’m sure I won’t.”  _ Especially if it means finding Victor _ , Yuuri thought. 

“I look forward to us becoming better acquainted. I think we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

\---------------------------------------

Yuuri straightened his tie for the umpteenth time, fidgeting nervously in the uncomfortable plastic chair. He’d been informed by some assistant, one that Yuuri hadn’t met, that Mr. Dale was held up in a meeting. That left Yuuri to stew in uncertainty and anxiety while he waited. He texted Yuri multiple times, wondering if he should back out, and Yuri just sent a snarky response telling him to not be such a baby. The more time he had to think about it, the more insane their plan sounded. He was going to get close to Mr. Dale and...what? He should have thought this through more. 

Just as Yuuri was seriously contemplating standing up and leaving, politeness be damned, a door opened and a familiar face poked through. “Yuuri! So glad you came.” James grinned. 

Standing up, Yuuri approached James, reaching for the hand that the assistant offered. James shook his hand enthusiastically, squeezing a little, but didn’t linger as long as Mr. Dale had during their first meeting. Still, it was more physical contact than he cared for with a stranger. “Thank you for taking the time to see me,” he offered politely. 

James waved him off. “Think nothing of it. I’m very excited to have you.” He gestured for Yuuri to follow him. “Mr. Dale is ready for you.”

Yuuri followed along, straightening his tie one more time for good measure. James led him through the open door, into a spacious office. Yuuri couldn’t contain a gasp as they entered the room. Yuri hadn’t been kidding; it was basically a Victor shrine. There were some photos of other athletes, presumably ones sponsored by Mr. Dale’s company, but none of them had as much of a presence in the room as Victor. There was an entire wall dedicated to the Russian champion, with framed posters, knick knacks, and a display case with photographs. Each photo was of Mr. Dale, and sometimes also James, posing with Victor at different ages. Each photo was signed, as was each poster on the wall. There were collectable items that had Yuuri’s inner fanboy drooling, including a Makkachin figurine that was displayed proudly in the case. Yuuri almost whined with jealousy. Only 10 had been made, and they’d all been sold for extravagant amounts for charity. Mr. Dale’s collection made Yuuri’s look like a cheap collection of junk. 

He and Yuri must have been wrong about the kidnapper’s motivation; it wasn’t jealousy, it was obsession. 

Mr. Dale was busy writing something on a notepad when Yuuri and James entered, a frown on his face. He glanced up when James closed the door and broke out into a smile. “Well, there he is!” He didn’t waste any time standing up and walking over to Yuuri, throwing an arm around him. “Welcome to our little family!” he drawled. 

“Er, thank you,” Yuuri replied awkwardly, trying not to cringe at the invasion of space. He needed to be as polite and cooperative as possible to gain this man’s trust. 

“I’ve got the contract for you right here,” James butted in, much to Yuuri’s relief. Mr. Dale finally backed off so Yuuri could grab the papers. 

The contract was fairly standard, and Yuuri didn’t particularly have any concerns about it. He knew Yakov had looked it over already and made a few adjustments, but was ultimately leaving the decision up to Yuuri. Once he was done scanning over the contract, Yuuri signed in all the appropriate places, an uncomfortable feeling in his gut. Once again, he realized how crazy his plan was. He felt like he was signing his life away to a kidnapper. 

Miraculously, Yuuri managed to keep a neutral expression. He handed the contract back to Mr. Dale, who took his turn to sign and initial the papers. Mr. Dale grinned. “Excellent! How about a drink to celebrate?”

“Oh, that’s alright--”

Although Mr. Dale had asked, he didn’t seem to care about Yuuri’s answer. He was already waving his hand around and asking James to get some champagne. Yuuri’s stomach twisted at the thought. Champagne was the last thing he wanted. It reminded him too much of Sochi. In fact, he wouldn’t be upset if he never had another glass of champagne again. 

Unaware of Yuuri’s internal struggle, James reappeared with a silver tray of glasses, and a bottle of expensive looking champagne. James set the tray down so he could open the bottle with a “pop”. It started bubbling over, but James managed to pour all the liquid into the glasses before it spilled. He handed a glass to his boss and Yuuri, then grabbed the last glass for himself. 

“To our new partnership,” Mr. Dale toasted. 

Both Yuuri and James repeated the phrase, holding their glasses up, then all three of them took a sip. It was good champagne, definitely high quality, but it still almost made Yuuri gag. It was bringing back too many negative feelings. He hadn’t drank any alcohol since Sochi, so he didn’t realize how much it would upset his stomach. Miraculously, Yuuri managed to keep the drink down without a fuss, but it tasted unnaturally bitter. 

A buzzing phone interrupted their socializing. Mr. Dale put down his drink so he could pick up his phone. He frowned at whatever he saw on his screen. “Would you two excuse me for a moment?” 

James nodded, grabbing both his and Yuuri’s drinks and gesturing for the skater to follow him out of the room. Yuuri stood up, trailing along behind James. James led them to a conference room with plush chairs and crystal clear windows. He gestured for Yuuri to sit down, then put his drink back in front of him when he complied. Yuuri nodded in thanks, taking another sip. It tasted less bitter than the first sip. 

“I can’t wait to see you skate at Worlds,” James said out of nowhere. 

“Oh, thanks. I hope I don’t disappoint you and Mr. Dale,” Yuuri replied. 

James waved him off. “Oh, don’t worry about that. I know you’re something special.” He smiled reassuringly. 

Yuuri felt uncomfortable with the praise, but he appreciated the vote of confidence. “I’ll do my best,” he promised. They sat in a few moments of silence, sipping their drinks, then Yuuri struck up a conversation. This was the perfect time to weasel out some information on Marcus Dale. “So, how long have you been Mr. Dale’s assistant?” 

“Oh, a few years. I’ve lost track,” James replied.

“How did you get involved with Dale Technologies?” 

James took another sip of his drink. “It’s kind of a long story. Mr. Dale helped me out when I was in a rough place.” 

“That was nice of him.” Yuuri was curious, but he didn’t want to be too obvious about probing for information.

Nodding in agreement, James replied, “Yeah, it was. He really is a nice guy, I promise. Just a little...enthusiastic.” He chuckled fondly. “It takes some getting used to.” 

Yuuri must have made a face, because James laughed harder. James seemed to think Yuuri was unsure about Mr. Dale’s bold personality, rather than the fact that he might be a kidnapper. It did briefly cross his mind that James could be involved, but he seemed far too polite and quiet to be a brutal criminal. Mr. Dale, on the other hand, seemed to make every hair on the back of Yuuri’s neck stand up when he was nearby. 

James continued his story when Yuuri didn’t offer a verbal response. “I had it in my head that I wanted to be a dancer,” he explained, “which is how I met Mr. Dale. When that didn’t work out, he offered me a job. I guess he figured we had some of the same interests, and knew that I needed work.”

Yuuri was surprised to hear that James had almost pursued dance. The man was fit, sure, but he seemed a little too awkward for the grace that any kind of dance required. “Were you serious about dance?”

James waved him off. “Oh, no. Not like Mr. Dale, anyway. I was just a kid who thought dancers were pretty and graceful,” he chuckled. “Not much to build a career on.” 

“Makes sense. I, uh, assume you saw my interview at Nationals, so you probably know that Victor is the reason I started skating.” When James nodded in confirmation, Yuuri continued, “He was just so amazing, the way he moved. I wanted to do that too.” 

“He is pretty amazing,” James said dreamily. “And so are you.”

After the natural lull in the conversation, Yuuri subtly tried to get more details about Mr. Dale. James was happy to share stories and information, but none of it was particularly useful for finding Victor. Or proving that Mr. Dale was involved. Some of the stories did make him laugh, particularly after James refilled their glasses and Yuuri felt himself getting a little tipsy. At least James was easy to talk to. 

Eventually, James’s phone pinged with a notification. He pulled his phone out, frowning at the screen. “Sorry, I guess an urgent matter came up and Mr. Dale needs my help. Feel free to relax here, we shouldn’t be long.” 

Yuuri nodded in understanding, nursing his drink as James left the room. He glanced around the conference room, partly out of curiosity, and partly looking for clues. The room contained a large oval table with rolling chairs and a few stray papers, but not much else. There was a computer and a TV screen, but it was password protected so Yuuri couldn’t get on. It vaguely occurred to him that there were probably cameras watching him, but he hoped his behavior would be explained as boredom or curiosity. Unfortunately, though, the conference room was also a dead end. 

Huffing in frustration, Yuuri plopped down in a nearby chair. He took another sip of his drink, contemplating his next move. At the same time, voices passed by the room, and Yuuri identified both Mr. Dale and James through the door that was left ajar. They were heading away from the offices, toward the elevator. Yuuri heard a “ding”, and then Mr. Dale’s loud, drawling voice disappeared. 

Maybe it was the alcohol in his system making him bold, but an idea popped into Yuuri’s head. Mr. Dale’s office was empty. The other assistant Yuuri had seen on his way in must have gone home, so there was no one else that seemed to be on the floor. Setting his drink down, Yuuri stood up and peeked his head through the door. He looked both ways, not seeing anyone else. It was now or never. 

As quietly as he could manage, Yuuri made his way back to Mr. Dale’s office. As expected, it was empty. The door had been left open, much to Yuuri’s relief, so he crept inside. It looked like Mr. Dale had left in a hurry to take care of whatever emergency James was talking about. There was a paper on his desk that had annotations halfway down the page, along with Mr. Dale’s half-finished glass of champagne. 

Yuuri tiptoed around the office, combing every inch for clues. He didn’t know what he was looking for. A strand of silver hair? Blood? A weapon? He hoped he’d know it when he found it, but he wasn’t having any luck. Mr. Dale’s office was pristine. There weren’t even dust bunnies in the corners, let alone evidence of a violent crime. The wall of Victor merchandise was clean and well organized. Each poster was perfectly leveled, with matching frames that didn’t have so much as a fingerprint on them. The shelving with the rest of the merchandise didn’t have any dust when Yuuri ran his finger over it. It wasn’t surprising, considering Mr. Dale was the CEO of a large company. He probably had a massive janitorial team that kept his office spick and span.

Abandoning the periphery, Yuuri moved on to the desk. He felt a little guilty about snooping through the stack of paperwork, but he quickly squashed the feeling down. The stack was innocuous, containing only invoices and memos. Nothing incriminating. Yuuri went through the drawers next, but they were equally as boring. Mostly office supplies and folders with important looking documents that Yuuri knew he didn’t have time to sift through. He had no idea how much time he had before his new sponsor returned and caught him sneaking around. Plus, it didn’t seem likely that Mr. Dale would just have a piece of paper sitting around that said “I am a kidnapper”, or something.

Yuuri tried getting onto the computer, but this one was password locked as well. Not surprising, considering it was the boss’s. Next, Yuuri started looking around under the desk. He examined the hardwood floor, patting around with his hands to see if he could pick anything up. He probably looked ridiculous, crawling around on all fours, but it was the only other thing he could think of doing. 

In the grand scheme of things, it was amazing that a little thing was able to catch his attention. It was invisible against the pattern of the rug in front of the door, but when his hands brushed over the plush carpeting, he spotted it getting swept up into the air. Yuuri’s heart started racing as he gingerly picked up his find, holding it up to the light. There was no mistaking what it was; a strand of light colored hair. It wasn’t damning evidence, as there was no guarantee who had been in and out of the office, but it certainly didn’t belong to Mr. Dale or his assistant. Both of them were brunettes. He was probably jumping to conclusions, but he didn’t care. He had to tell Yuri.

Yuuri was so engrossed in his finding that he missed the sound of the elevator dinging. He only realized he was about to be caught when a pair of voices were just outside the office. Frantically, Yuuri jumped to his feet, brushing off his pants so it wasn’t quite so obvious he’d been crawling around.

“Just make sure you take care of it,” Mr. Dale grumbled irritably as he and his assistant approached the room where Yuuri was not supposed to be. “I don’t want this getting out.” 

At this point, hiding was useless. Yuuri was going to have to come up with an excuse for why he’d snuck into his new sponsor’s office while he was out. Although, right now he was more interested in the conversation occurring outside. 

“Of course, sir. I’ll get it done, and keep it quiet,” James promised. 

Yuuri only had a second to brace himself before the door was thrown open and two sets of eyes, one green and one brown, were blinking at him in confusion. Mr. Dale raised an eyebrow, a frown on his face. 

Yuuri gulped, then forced a smile on his face. “Sorry for intruding, I really wanted to get another look at your collection.” Yuuri pointed to one of the posters in front of him. “I have a pretty good collection myself, but I’ve never seen this one before.” 

Apparently, Yuuri said the right thing, because Mr. Dale’s eyes lit up and his suspicious expression melted away into pure glee. “Ah, that’s because it was a limited release!” He gestured broadly to his whole collection of Victor merchandise. “Most of the items here were limited release, actually. In fact, this one over here…” 

Normally, Yuuri would be thrilled to have a conversation with someone about Victor Nikiforov merchandise. In this case, however, Yuuri could barely hear what Mr. Dale was saying over the pounding of his own heart. What would have happened if Mr. Dale figured out what he was doing? If he really was the kidnapper, he would probably kill Yuuri if he knew, right? Had Yuuri just narrowly avoided disaster? 

Yuuri barely heard what was said during the rest of his visit. It felt like all of Mr. Dale’s words were far away, and even his final handshake barely registered to Yuuri. The reality of the danger he may have just been in left him shaken and anxious. There was also the fact that in his panic, he’d dropped the hair. Yuuri cursed himself for losing the only piece of evidence he’d found. 

Yuri cursed him as well. As soon as Yuuri stepped back into Victor’s apartment, Yuri was on him. When Yuuri explained what happened, he scowled and let loose an impressive string of curse words. “You idiot! We could have gotten a DNA sample or something on that!” 

“I know,” Yuuri sighed. “I was lucky I saw it at all. Like finding a needle in a haystack.” 

“There’s no way those dumb cops will listen to us without proof,” Yuri grumbled. 

“I know,” Yuuri repeated. “I’m sorry. I panicked when I heard them coming back. I didn’t want to get caught.” 

Yuri’s expression softened the tiniest amount. “I guess that makes sense…” 

They sat in silence for a full minute, nothing but the sound of Makka’s rhythmic panting filling the space. She nosed at Yuuri for attention, wagging her tail happily. She’d finally started showing more liveliness. The poodle was no longer sulking and laying around all day and had even stolen food right off of Yuri’s plate the other day. Yuuri was glad at least Makka was doing better. 

Yuuri broke the silence. “I’m sorry I blew it. That may have been our only chance to get dirt on Mr. Dale.”

To his credit, Yuri actually looked like he felt a little guilty about yelling at Yuuri. “It’s not like you won’t see him again.” 

Yuuri smiled gratefully, appreciating the teen’s effort to be supportive. “That’s true.” He sighed sadly. “I just don’t know how much time Victor has.” 

Yuri winced, but nodded in agreement. He looked contemplative, then asked, “What if we tell Yakov?” 

“About what?”

“The hair. Our suspicions,” Yuri replied. 

Yuuri was skeptical. “Do you think he’d listen?” 

Yuri looked unsure. “I don’t know...but if anyone could get the cops to listen, it would be him.” 

“You’re right.” Yuuri almost wanted to see Yakov take on the asshole cop that had kicked them out. It would be incredibly satisfying to see him get chewed out by the Russian coach. 

Suddenly, Yuri stood up. He grabbed Yuuri’s coat and tossed it at him, then grabbed his own. “Well, then get off your ass and let’s go!” 

Yuuri complied, slipping his jacket on. He said a quick goodbye to Makka, feeling guilty for leaving again so soon. Then, it was a quick bus ride to Yakov’s house. On the way, Yuuri kept rehearsing in his head what he wanted to say to the old coach. He wasn’t convinced Yakov would listen, but Yuri was right about him being their best chance. Yakov was well respected, and if that wasn’t enough to make the police listen, he was stubborn and loud. 

They reached their stop, and Yuuri followed behind his teenage friend to a small house not far from the bus stop. Yuri didn’t bother knocking, pulling out his key and letting both of them in. “Oi, Yakov!”

There was an irritated grumble, followed by some heavy footsteps. Yakov appeared in the entryway, looking as surly as usual. He snapped at Yuri in Russian, then addressed both of them in English. “Why are you barging into my house?” 

Yuuri was going to respond tactfully, but Yuri barrelled ahead. “We found a clue about Victor!” 

Yakov’s frown deepened. “What are you talking about?” 

“It’s that creepy sponsor, Dale! He took Victor!” He looked over to Yuuri. “Tell him, Katsuki!” 

Internally, Yuuri cursed Yuri’s brashness. “We have a theory,” Yuuri clarified. “He fits the profile of the kidnapper. And he’s, well, a little odd when he talks about Victor.” 

“Tell him about the hair!” Yuri insisted. 

Despite Yakov glowering at him, Yuuri managed to continue. “I sort of noticed a hair that looks like Victor’s in Mr. Dale’s office today. And I overheard him telling his assistant to ‘take care of it’.” 

Yakov’s face turned an impressive shade of red. “What are you two going on about?!” 

Yuri tsked. “Weren’t you listening? We have a lead on Victor! The police won’t listen to us, you have to tell them!” 

“I will do no such thing,” Yakov snarled. “You boys are meddling in affairs that do not concern you.” 

Yuri’s face turned a shade that almost matched Yakov’s. “Are you fucking kidding me?! Don’t you even care about getting Victor back?!” 

“Of course I do! But that doesn’t mean I am going to accuse people of a violent crime without evidence,” Yakov snapped back. 

Yuri stood up on his tiptoes, not afraid of his coach’s temper. “Weren’t you listening? We have evidence!” 

“You have suspicions, that’s not the same!” Yakov countered. “You are making some wild jumps with your accusations!”

“Coach--” Yuuri tried to intervene.

Yakov turned on him. “And  _ you _ ! Have you been encouraging this nonsense? I may have asked you here as a favor, but if I will not hesitate to put you on the first plane back to Detroit if you cause trouble!” He jabbed a finger at each of them respectively. “I will hear no more of this. If you do not abandon this ridiculous pursuit, neither of you will skate for the rest of the season!” 

Yuri snarled something in Russian that made steam practically pour out of Yakov’s ears. Yuuri didn’t know what the teen was yelling, but he guessed it wasn’t nice. They went back and forth a few times, until Yakov slammed his fist on the nearest counter and said something that made Yuri’s mouth snap shut. 

When the room was finally quiet, Yakov let out a frustrated sigh. “Go home. Both of you. I better not hear one more word about this tomorrow.” He opened his door, gesturing for them to go out. 

Heads hanging low, both Yuuri and Yuri followed their coach’s orders. Yuri muttered angrily under his breath as Yakov slammed the door behind them. Yuri kicked it as soon as it was closed. Despite Yuri’s outward rage, he looked defeated. His shoulders were slumped, and he was trying to fight back tears of anger and frustration. Yuuri knew he didn’t look much better. If Yakov wasn’t going to listen, who was? 


	6. Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri finds some answers...but is he ready for them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiiiii so posting a day early because I'm excited about you all seeing this chapter. You will also notice that the chapter count went up! That's because I apparently labeled my chapters wrong in my draft so I was off by 1. Also I'm sorry...
> 
> SO this is where things start to get intense. I will be putting CW at the bottom from here until the end.

“And now, gold medalist Katsuki Yuuri will be skating his exhibition to Victor Nikiforov’s _Stammi Vicino_.” 

Yuuri took in the roar of the crowd as he settled into a very familiar starting position. As much as he loved his own program, especially with all the updating he and Yakov had done, Victor’s program was really something special. It felt like he was connecting to Victor in the only way he could. When he reached out across the ice, he liked to imagine he was reaching out to Victor, wherever he was. He knew it was impossible, but he hoped that the Russian skater would feel it somehow. 

The crowd roared again as he landed his quad flip. He’d already landed it successfully during the competition, but that didn’t seem to curb the crowd’s enthusiasm. The cheering wasn’t quite as loud as when he’d unexpectedly broken Victor’s free skate record, but it was still an impressive volume. 

Yuuri was still in a daze after everything that had happened. All he’d ever wanted to do was be worthy to skate on the same ice as Victor, and now he’d surpassed him. He couldn’t help but wonder what Victor would have thought if he was here. Would Yuuri have beaten him? Or would Victor have managed to pull ahead? Would the champion have been angry about losing his record, or excited about a new challenger?

Then again, Yuuri wouldn’t be motivated to work so hard if Victor was here. It was sad to think about, but the only reason he was even doing well this season was because of what happened to Victor. Yuuri almost stumbled at the thought, but managed to keep going. He’d trade every gold medal he’d won this season if it meant Victor could come home safe. 

_This is for you, wherever you are._

As the second half of the program started, Yuuri felt the tears start. It just wasn’t fair. Victor should be here, skating the gold medal exhibition instead of Yuuri. He should’ve been the one standing on the top of the podium. Maybe Yuuri would’ve been watching from the audience as he accepted his 5th consecutive gold. 

The program was ending, and Yuuri put everything he had into it. It might just be an exhibition, but it was almost more important than anything else he’d skated this year. It was the tribute he’d been working on for Victor. Through his time in St. Petersburg, at Victor’s rink, with his rinkmates, and his dog, Yuuri felt like he’d gotten to know him. It was like they had a connection, even if they’d never had a full conversation that Yuuri could remember. 

When the program ended, Yuuri was drenched in sweat and tears. The crowd wouldn’t know what this program meant to him, but he hoped they could feel what he was feeling. It was a program about longing, about trying to hold onto someone you couldn’t reach. It seemed fitting for the lost skater, who was far beyond where Yuuri could reach him.

The noise of the crowd reached a crescendo as Yuuri finally broke the final pose, taking a few polite bows. He felt raw and exposed as he skated off the ice, his chest heaving from exertion. Yakov met him with his skate guards, and Yuuri almost could’ve sworn he saw the remnants of a single tear on the coach’s cheek. He nodded in approval, for once not offering any criticism. Once Yuuri’s guards were back on, he offered a final polite wave to the crowd, then followed his coach away from the ice. Neither of them spoke, the intensity of Yuuri’s performance hanging heavy in the air. 

The rest of the season had passed by in a blur. Yuuri kept up polite conversation with James and Mr. Dale, particularly with James. The man was enthusiastic, albeit a little awkward, and seemed to enjoy chatting with Yuuri. Yuuri found that he didn’t mind talking to the assistant, at least compared to his boss. Mr. Dale was always brash and liked to push boundaries. In comparison, James was much more mild-mannered. A little strange, sure, but much more likable than his overbearing employer. Unfortunately, though, he hadn’t managed to get any leads more promising than the hair. Plus, Yakov had made it nearly impossible for Yuuri and Yuri to even try. He’d worked them extra hard, to the point where Yuuri only had the energy to crawl into bed at the end of the day, leaving poor Makkachin without a walk on a few nights. He barely had enough energy to think about what to make for lunch, let alone how to get dirt on a rich, powerful CEO who may or may not be a kidnapper.

Even though the atmosphere at the rink had been colder than the ice they skated on, Yuuri couldn’t deny that he was prepared. He’d drilled the quad flip to the point where he thought he could do it in his sleep. It was amazing to think that after only a few short months he was landing Victor Nikiforov’s signature jump, and skating his program too. After his disastrous performance in Sochi, he never would have imagined that he’d win gold at Worlds. The press was having a field day with it. Some of them were loving the underdog story, others were trying to use Yuuri’s success as evidence that he got Victor out of the way so he could win.

Yakov had been a little uncertain when Yuuri brought up the idea of skating _Stammi Vicino_ , but he caved once Yuuri explained that it was in tribute to Victor. Yuuri knew some of the people that had been accusing him of being involved in Victor’s abduction would have a hayday, but he didn’t care. It was something he had to do. He just hoped someday Victor would get to see the performance that Yuuri poured his heart into. 

“Katsuki.” 

Yuuri looked up at his coach questioningly as they neared the locker room. “Coach?” 

Yakov placed a hand on his shoulder. “You did good. Vitya would have loved it.” 

Not one for sentiment, Yakov said no more, nor did he wait for a response. He nodded to Yuuri, indicating that the conversation was done. Yuuri returned the gesture appreciatively. After that, Yakov left him alone to change, but Yuuri knew the Russian coach wouldn’t go far. He was still incredibly wary about leaving Yuuri alone. 

With his press duties already taken care of, Yuuri would be able to go straight back to the hotel and relax. He had at least a dozen messages and voicemails on his phone from friends and family offering their congratulations, and he knew he’d need to call them back. There was also a new text from Chris, which Yuuri ignored along with all the others that the Swiss skater had sent. He just felt too guilty about his involvement in Victor’s disappearance to talk to Victor’s best friend. 

While Yuuri was scrolling on his phone, a locker slammed next to him, making him jump. He looked up to see Yuri standing next to him, holding his jacket and looking bored. “Hurry up, I’m hungry.” 

“Were you waiting for me?” 

Yuri rolled his eyes. “No, I just like hanging out in disgusting locker rooms.” 

Yuuri chuckled. “Thanks for waiting.”

“Not like Yakov will let me go anywhere alone, anyway,” Yuri muttered. Still, he stayed near Yuuri, offering the occasional commentary on his exhibition program. Of course he’d seen it before, but it was a different experience seeing it here. 

Yuuri was proud of his performance. The only thing he wished he did differently was pick a better costume. He hadn’t been able to come up with something to compliment the program, so he’d just worn a white button up and black slacks. 

Yuri’s exhibition skate had been some catchy pop song that Yuuri didn’t recognize. Yakov let him do one quad, and Yuri had been walking around with his chest puffed out like he’d already won the senior division with it. 

“Are you going to visit your family while you’re here?” Yuri asked suddenly.

Yuuri frowned. “No, I hadn’t planned on it. My sister and a family friend were supposed to come, but there was an emergency back home. Everything’s ok but they couldn’t make it.” 

“That sucks,” Yuri offered sympathetically.

Yuuri shrugged. “I miss them, but I don’t feel like I have time to go visit right now. Since the season is over, we need to get to work.” 

Yuri nodded in agreement. “Yeah.” He looked uncertain. “What are we going to do now.” 

While in the middle of tying his shoes, Yuuri paused. “I...don’t know. I’m running out of ideas,” Yuuri admitted. “But we’ll think of something.” 

“What if we don’t?” Yuri asked quietly.

“Don’t think like that,” Yuuri replied sternly. “We’re Victor’s best chance, we can’t give up. The police aren’t even looking at Mr. Dale.” 

“I know it’s him. I just do,” Yuri insisted. 

Yuuri hummed in agreement. “I have the same feeling. When I’m around him I just feel…” Yuuri shuddered, remembering the feeling of unease he’d felt the first time he’d met Mr. Dale. 

“He’s a creep,” Yuri agreed. 

“We just need one big breakthrough. One solid piece of evidence to get someone to listen to us,” Yuuri insisted. 

If Yuuri could have looked into the future, he would have asked for something different.

\---------------------------------------

Yuuri had woken up that morning to a call from Yakov, which was unusual because it was officially the off season. It wasn’t like Yakov to call him on a day off. He had a bad feeling in his gut as he found himself outside Yakov’s office, Yuri at his side. 

“Close the door,” Yakov said flatly.

Yuuri and Yuri entered the office, and Yuuri apprehensively closed the door. 

Yuri was stomping past him, irritated that he’d been called to the rink during his own time off. He yanked a chair to the center of the room, plopping down and crossing his arms. He frowned at Yakov, grumbling about being woken up too early. 

Less aggressively than Yuri, Yuuri grabbed the last unoccupied chair in the room and pulled it in front of Yakov’s desk. He sat down, fidgeting nervously. 

Yakov cleared his throat, removing his hat and placing it on his desk. “Boys. There’s something you need to know. I want you to hear it from me before it gets out.” 

“Quit being so mysterious!” Yuri snapped.

Yuuri knew something was wrong when Yakov didn’t bother to chastise Yuri for his rudeness. In fact, he didn’t even react, staring past the two of them with a blank expression. 

Yakov inhaled a shaky breath. “It’s Victor. They found him.” 

Yakov should be celebrating. He should be happy. If Victor had been found, he shouldn’t be frowning, so why did he look so miserable? “What’s going on?” Yuuri asked quietly. 

Yakov’s stoic expression wavered for a moment, a look of pure grief briefly crossing his face. He recovered quickly, although his eyes looked red rimmed. “The police found a body,” his voice cracked, “they’re fairly certain it’s Victor.” 

Swallowing hard against the lump in his throat, Yuuri opened his mouth to respond, but couldn’t find any words. 

“Fairly certain doesn’t mean completely certain!” Yuri argued, his fists clenched. “That means it might not be him!” 

Yakov shook his head. “Yura--”

“No!” He stood up, slamming his fist on Yakov’s desk. Yakov didn’t react, but Yuuri flinched at the noise. 

“I’m sorry Yura, but it’s true.” Yakov placed a comforting hand over Yuri’s clenched fist. 

Yuri ripped his hand away. “How do they know? How do they know it’s him?” 

“I don’t think you want to hear--”

“Tell me!” Yuri wailed, his eyes filling with tears. 

Yakov sighed, shaking his head. “You’re just a child, this is nothing you need to concern yourself with.” 

Yuri ground his teeth in anger, his face turning red. He spat a few curse words at Yakov before turning on his heel and storming away from Yakov and Yuuri. He ripped the door open, then slammed it behind him. The frame rattled in the wake of Yuri’s anger, and Yuuri could hear him swearing and stomping down the hall. 

“Katsuki.” 

Yuuri’s focus snapped to Yakov. “C-coach?” 

Yakov sighed heavily, opening one of his desk drawers. He pulled out a glass bottle and two shot glasses, the glass clinking as Yakov placed it on the desk. “I need a drink.” He poured two drinks, offering one to Yuuri.

Normally, Yuuri wasn’t much of a drinker. However, given the circumstances he didn’t hesitate to take the glass. “What is it?” He swirled it around, squinting suspiciously at the dark liquid. 

The only explanation Yakov offered was, “Strong.” He held his own glass up, then knocked it back.

Yuuri followed his example, grimacing as the bitter liquid touched his tongue. He coughed, his face scrunching up in displeasure. Yakov wasn’t kidding; whatever it was, it was _very_ strong. Yakov poured himself another shot, raising an eyebrow at Yuuri. Yuuri shook his head, still recovering from the first drink. 

After another shot, Yakov turned his gaze back to Yuuri. “This morning, I got a call from the officers involved in Victor’s case. He doesn’t have any close family, so they asked me to come in.” He paused taking a heavy breath. “They wanted me to identify his body.” 

Yuuri felt like he’d been hit with a ton of bricks. Yakov didn’t open up much, but Yuuri had very much gotten the impression that Yakov cared a lot about Victor. He didn’t know what to say, so he let Yakov continue.

“I’m only telling you this because I know how invested you’ve gotten in trying to find him. You deserve to know. But,” Yakov added, “you don’t have to hear this if you don’t want to. It’s...upsetting.” 

Part of Yuuri wanted to get up and leave. If it was that horrible, did he really want to know? Realistically, Yuuri knew he would find out eventually. It would be impossible to keep the details away from the paparazzi. He might as well find out now, instead of from a trashy magazine that would twist the story into something even worse. Yuuri held his glass out to Yakov, who filled it immediately. This time, Yuuri was ready for the strong taste, so he only gagged a little after he took the shot. 

“I want to know,” Yuuri said resolutely. 

Yakov nodded solemnly. “A body was found in the Neva last night. It was…” He paused, his face taking on a pained expression. “It was mangled. Burned. Almost beyond recognition, but I’m reasonably sure that it was Victor.” 

Yuuri covered his mouth to hold back the bile rising in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, before asking, “How sure is ‘reasonably’?” 

“Excuse me?” 

Once Yuuri was certain he wasn’t going to be sick, he opened his eyes and stared at Yakov. “So you’re not 100% sure?” 

Yakov pinched the bridge of his nose. “Katsuki, don’t go there.” 

“But you said you’re only _reasonably_ sure. Maybe--”

“Enough!” Yakov stood up suddenly. “It’s over. You’ll drive yourself insane if you keep thinking like that.” He shook with rage. “What do you want to hear, Katsuki? About how I looked into the lifeless eyes of someone I basically considered a son? You think I wouldn’t recognize the boy I practically raised, even if his face was burned and broken?”

Timidly, Yuuri replied, “I just don’t want to give up if there’s still a chance he’s out there.” 

For a moment, Yakov looked even more enraged, and Yuuri was worried he went too far. Then, Yakov’s expression melted into sorrow. He poured another drink, shooting Yuuri a questioning glance. Yuuri accepted immediately. The two downed their drinks in silence, before Yakov sighed and spoke again, softer than before. “No one should have to see what I saw today. That horrible image will be burned into my memory forever.” He toyed with his glass before continuing, “I just want to mourn.” His gaze shifted to Yuuri. “Can you let me do that?” 

It was difficult to see someone as gruff and serious as Yakov showing so much emotion. Yuuri knew that the old coach must be incredibly upset. That, in addition to the fact that Yakov had been nothing but kind and accommodating, made Yuuri’s answer obvious. “Of course. I’m sorry.” 

Yakov nodded curtly. “Go home. Take as much time to recover as you need.” 

Yuuri handed his glass back to Yakov, thanking him awkwardly. He wasn’t completely sure if he was thanking the coach for the drink, or for the information about Victor. Regardless, it felt weird not to say anything before he left Yakov’s office. 

As soon as Yuuri closed the door, he let out a heavy sigh and leaned against the door frame. He should probably be sad, or shocked, but all he felt was determination. Maybe it was the alcohol that was now making his head feel a bit fuzzy, but he couldn’t bring himself to believe that Victor was really gone. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Yakov, he just didn’t want to give up hope if the coach was only “reasonably” sure. Now that Yakov, and likely the police, were convinced that Victor was dead, it was more important than ever that Yuuri continue his work. If no one else was going to keep looking for Victor, then it was up to Yuuri. 

_And Yuri_ , a voice in his head reminded him. Yuuri winced. He wasn’t looking forward to sharing the gruesome details Yakov had told him with the teen, but they’d made promises not to keep anything from each other. 

Yuuri didn’t have long to think about how he wanted to approach the subject with his young friend before he was being ambushed in the hallway by a very prickly looking teenager. Yuri had clearly been waiting for him to leave Yakov’s office, and was looking expectantly at Yuuri. He opened his mouth to say something, but Yuuri shushed him.

“Not here,” Yuuri whispered. He didn’t want anyone to overhear what he was going to say. 

Yuri nodded in understanding. “Head to Victor’s place?” 

“Yeah,” Yuuri agreed, and the two immediately made their way toward the door. 

There were a few people milling about, but neither Yuuri nor Yuri acknowledged them. No one else knew what Yakov had told them, so business at the rink was going on as usual. There were younger skaters laughing and playing tag before their practice started, while their coaches grinned and chatted merrily. None of them were aware of the dark secret Yakov had shared. 

The walk to Victor’s apartment was silent. Yuri was clenching his fists in a way that made Yuuri fairly certain the teen was dying to ask questions, but holding himself back. The doorman nodded to them as they entered the building, and Yuri didn’t waste any time rushing over to call the elevator. Impatient, he pressed the button multiple times, swearing when the elevator didn’t come right away. When it finally announced its arrival with a “ding”, Yuri almost ran over the occupants in his haste. Yuuri apologized in broken Russian, following the teen into the elevator. 

“So?” Yuri prompted.

“Not yet,” Yuuri insisted.

Yuri grumbled, but relented. When they reached Victor’s door, Yuuri could hear Makka’s nails clicking on the wood as she trotted toward the door. A few soft whines made it through the door as well. Yuuri turned the key, and the door opened. Makka’s tail wagged happily, nosing both skaters affectionately.

“I just need to take her out and then we can talk. She’s been cooped up for a while.” Yuuri grabbed Makka’s leash off the hook by the door and clipped it to her collar. 

“Ugh, fine. But hurry up!” 

Yuuri nodded, then led the poodle out the door. The walk was brief, just around the block to do her business and sniff, and then they were back. The doorman offered Makka a treat, which she happily accepted, and then Yuuri took her back to Victor’s apartment. Yuri was waiting on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table, looking irritated. 

“Alright, spit it out!” Yuri demanded, clearly tired of waiting.

Once Makka had been let loose, Yuuri joined Yuri on the couch. Makka followed him, demanding attention from Yuri as her human friends chatted. “Are you sure you want to hear? It’s pretty upsetting.”

Yuri scowled. “I don’t care. Tell me.” 

That was the answer Yuuri expected, so he relayed what Yakov had told him. “Something just doesn’t feel right,” Yuuri admitted once he was done explaining Yakov’s story. “I mean, it just seems so convenient that the body they found happens to be difficult to identify.”

“Agreed,” Yuri replied, looking a little shaken by the description. “If Yakov isn’t 100% certain, I don’t believe it. It’s too easy.” 

“Exactly. So I’m not ready to give up.” 

“Neither am I,” Yuri replied resolutely. “I’m not letting you get all the credit for finding that geezer.” 

“Of course,” Yuuri chuckled. “We’ll share the glory,” he joked. “Now we just need to figure out how to find him. We keep hitting dead ends and I can’t help but worry that we’re running out of time. Why did the kidnapper dump a body now? Why this particular timing?”

Yuri shrugged. “Hell if I know.” He gently nudged Makka aside so he could stand up and retrieve their folder of case notes. He picked it up, flipping through the folder with a scowl on his face. “This guy always seems to know what he’s doing.” 

“Right,” Yuuri agreed. “Everything has been planned out. I mean, you remember the abduction footage. He waved at the camera! He seems so confident that he’ll get away with it.”

“Or cocky,” Yuri countered. “He’ll fuck up eventually. And we’ll be ready.” 

Yuuri scratched behind Makka’s ears, feeling reassured by the poodle’s presence. “I hope so.”

“Don’t get sulky on me now!” 

“Sorry,” Yuuri replied, smiling apologetically. 

“Tsk.” Yuri stomped back over to the couch, plopping down next to Yuuri. He didn’t look up from the file as he asked, “Got any food?” 

There was something about the normalcy of the teen’s ravenous appetite that made Yuuri chuckle, despite the day’s tension. “I have some leftovers.” 

“I want to try something from that new cafe,” Yuri insisted.

“Sure. We can order in.” 

“Nah,” Yuri countered. “It’s just down the block. Tell me what you want and I’ll go get it.” 

After a few minutes looking at the menu, they both decided on some light sandwiches and pastries. Yuuri handed Yuri some money to cover his portion, and then the teen was off. Yuuri watched out the window, waiting to see that Yuri had made it out of the building safely. He didn’t stop watching until Yuri made it around the block and out of his sight. The younger skater looked up toward the apartment window and waved before he rounded the corner, making Yuuri smile gratefully. Yuri knew how paranoid Yuuri had become about either of them going anywhere alone, so Yuuri appreciated that he always texted when he got home and made an effort to let Yuuri know he was ok, despite his initial outburst about not needing a “goddamn babysitter”. 

Makka stood up on her hindlegs with her forepaws up on the windowsill, looking out onto the city with Yuuri. She didn’t know what they were looking at, but she was excited to be included. Yuuri chuckled, ruffling the poodle’s fur affectionately. “Come on girl, let’s wait for him on the couch.” He gestured for the poodle to follow him back toward the sofa. She followed him without hesitation, trotting easily at his side. The poor poodle was probably feeling a little anxious about all the nervous energy in the room, so she seemed happy to go wherever Yuuri was. 

The two sat down together, Yuuri upright on the couch, Makka curled up next to him. Yuuri couldn’t help but fidget anxiously while he waited, so he turned on the television. He was already on edge from Yakov’s announcement, and having Yuri out on the street without him wasn’t making him feel any better. 

Turning the television on ended up being a mistake. All Yuuri wanted was something mindless and trashy to distract him, but every channel just reminded him of Victor. Whether on purpose or accidentally, the news of the body being found had been released. Yuuri couldn’t understand more than a few phrases here and there, but he didn’t need to be fluent to understand what he was seeing. A few channels had officers being interviewed, mixed in with shots of the Neva and civilians curiously gathered around a police line. Other channels had shots of fans mourning, holding up signs with Victor’s name and picture on them while they cried and held each other. He flipped through a few more channels, but stopped when Yakov appeared on screen. He was being ambushed by reporters, who were yelling questions and trying to shove microphones in his face while uniformed officers pushed them back. Yuuri didn’t understand the questions, but he did understand the constant stream of “no comment!” that Yakov was screaming, followed by a few curse words. 

Yuuri glanced at the time on his phone. It hadn’t even been 2 hours since Yakov gave him and Yuri the news, but it had spread so fast. Judging by the coach’s red face and barely concealed rage, Yuuri got the impression someone leaked information before Yakov was ready. He stared sadly at the man on the screen. Yakov was herding students out of the building and toward waiting cars, snapping at reporters when they got too close. It seemed like their practice had been interrupted, and now Yakov was trying to get everyone out to save them from the media circus. Yuuri was glad he wasn’t there. Actually, he was glad _Yuri_ wasn’t there. The teen would never be able to stop himself from screaming at nosy reporters, and there was a good chance he would have a fit on live television about not believing Victor was dead. That was not the kind of publicity the young skater needed, especially with Victor’s kidnapper still on the loose. 

A buzz from Yuuri’s phone snapped him out of his thoughts. He picked it up, opening the message to read it.

**Yuri** : Line is stupidly long. Gonna be a while.

**Yuuri** : Thanks for checking in. Take your time. 

At least Yuuri could put his mind at ease for a while. Yuri would be safe in a crowded cafe. He wondered if Yuri knew that the media was exploding. It was likely that he would have mentioned it if he knew, so Yuuri suspected he was still unaware. If the cafe had any televisions on it was only a matter of time before he found out. Yuuri would tell him when he got back, but there was no sense getting him riled up right now.

With a sigh, Yuuri took one last look at Yakov’s irate face, then turned the TV off. He leaned back on the couch, prompting a tail wag from Makka. 

“You don’t know how lucky you are, girl. There’s so much insanity happening right now, and you don’t know about any of it.” The poodle cocked her head as Yuuri talked to her, her tail wagging faster. “But I bet you miss Victor, and you can’t understand what happened to him.” 

Makka perked up when she heard her owner’s name, her tail wagging even harder. It made Yuuri feel guilty that he brought up Victor at all. Now she was going to be excited, maybe even looking for Victor, but of course she wouldn’t find him. 

“I’m sorry, Makka. He’s not here. I don’t know if he’ll ever…” Yuuri shook his head, fighting back a wave of tears. He couldn’t go down that road. He would continue to believe Victor was alive until he had undeniable proof to the contrary. The poodle pawed at him, seeming concerned about Yuuri’s sudden mood change. He sniffled, and offered a few head pats. She was such a good dog. 

A few minutes of petting a very soft, loveable poodle helped Yuuri settle, but his mind was still buzzing. Since television wasn’t going to help, Yuuri decided to pull his phone out to find other distractions. 

Instagram was full of posts dedicated to Victor, so that was out. Tumblr was links to the news reports about the body. Twitter, which Yuuri rarely even used, was more of the same. It made Yuuri want to throw his phone across the room in frustration. All he wanted to do was not think about Victor for a few minutes. Once Yuri got back, they’d likely be spending all night working the case. Couldn’t he have just a little bit of time to let his mind wander?

None of the apps seemed interesting enough to hold Yuuri’s attention, so he thought about striking up a conversation with someone. He could always chat with Yuri while he waited. Except, Yuri might pick up on Yuuri’s anxiety and ask questions. Yuuri had promised not to lie to him, so he wouldn’t be able to keep the secret. Normally, he’d talk to Phichit when he was feeling like this, but he and Phichit still hadn’t fully reconciled. They exchanged polite and formal messages with the occasional meme or joke, but things were definitely not back to normal. Plus, Phichit would lose it if he knew Yuuri was still planning to work on Victor’s case. 

He thought about calling his family, but their understanding of Victor was that he was nothing more than a crush to Yuuri. They wouldn’t understand what Yuuri was doing, or why. That was the exact reason he’d kept them in the dark. He felt bad about not keeping in contact better, but it would be worth it if he and Yuri could find Victor. He’d have time to reconcile with Phichit and his family later. 

Yuuri scrolled through his recent messages, looking for someone to pick up a conversation with. He didn’t have a lot of close friends that he would just chat with via text, so the pickings were pretty slim. Yuuri was about to give up on finding a conversation partner, when one name caught his eye. The person he’d been avoiding, out of guilt, that also happened to be the person that kept reaching out. 

For the first time in over a month, Yuuri opened Chris’s text messages and properly looked at them. 

**Chris** : I just wanted to see if you were doing ok. How’s Russia? I hope the Russian Fairy isn’t giving you too much trouble. 

**Chris** : I don’t really know who else to talk to about this, so I’m just going to talk to you. Even if you don’t answer, I at least have somewhere to put my thoughts. I miss him. And I just keep thinking that there should be something I could do to help. I know that there’s probably not, but if you’re still trying to find him, please tell me if I can help. 

**Chris** : I know that you don’t want to talk to me because for some reason you think you’re responsible for this. I never felt like that and I still don’t. Those people at 4CC can go fuck themselves. The people who really know Victor, and love him, know that you had nothing to do with this. 

**Chris** : Please answer me, I’m worried about you. Your friend Phichit texted me and said he’s concerned. I know we didn’t stay in touch, but I’ve always considered you a friend. I’ve already lost 1 friend, I don’t want to lose another. 

**Chris** : Would you respond to a picture of the world’s cutest cat?

_[Image description: A fluffy, well groomed white cat wearing a bedazzled collar and looking up at the camera]_

**Chris** : I’ve been feeling guilty lately myself. I love Victor, but I can’t pretend I’ve never thought about how if he wasn’t skating, I’d have a chance to win. I feel horrible. I never want to think like that about my best friend. Now I can’t help feeling like this is punishment for ever thinking that way at all. I wish I could take it back. 

**Chris** : Congrats, Yuuri. You skated wonderfully. I think Victor would have been impressed. Let me know if you want to grab drinks later? 

**Chris** : I was just thinking about the last banquet we shared. I know you said you didn’t want to see pictures, but I just wanted you to see how happy you made Victor. 

_Attachment: 6 images_

Yuuri squeezed his phone. Chris had been putting in so much effort to try to reach out, and Yuuri had ignored him. He really was being a shit friend, wasn’t he? First he pushed Phichit away, and now Chris. Enough was enough. Yuuri decided then and there that he would make amends with his friends. They were all going through a tough time, he didn’t need to be making it tougher. 

But first, Yuuri decided to look at the pictures. He took a deep breath, his curiosity getting the best of him. He had seen pictures from the banquet during his investigation, but he had refused to look at any pictures of himself. It was too painful. When the first picture loaded, Yuuri gasped. There he was, dancing with Victor Nikiforov. They were smiling, both of their shirts mussed and drinks in their hands. Yuuri stared down at the picture, hardly believing what he was seeing. How had he managed to make Victor smile like _that_? Like Yuuri was the only one in the room.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Yuuri moved on to the next set of pictures. They were all different poses, and stages of undress (in Yuuri’s case), but their smiles remained in each one. Yuuri chuckled as he noticed Yuri in the background of one photo, scowling, but holding his phone out to get the best video. Finally, Yuuri settled on a picture of Victor in his arms. If Yuuri didn’t know what they were to each other, he would have assumed they were lovers, with the way they were looking at each other. Why was Victor Nikiforov looking at him _tenderly_? 

Yuuri quickly scrolled back, feeling overwhelmed by what he was seeing. He landed back on the first picture, staring at it blankly. Everyone had told him what happened at the banquet, but this was the first time he was seeing it himself. The realization hit Yuuri that these were probably the last photos ever taken of Victor. His focus sharpened, and his eyes started to hungrily rake over the picture. No matter what happened, he wanted to remember Victor like this. Smiling, laughing...alive. He scrolled through the next photos, keeping the same intense focus as he took in every detail of Victor’s expression. He wanted to remember it all. What Victor was wearing, how the corners of his eyes were crinked with happiness, how people in the background cheered them on. Yuuri scanned over their faces, taking in various expressions of shock, glee, and disgust (Yuri). He laughed at Chris’s delight, and Michele’s confusion. There were plenty of people he didn’t know, but recognized from his research. A Spanish skater who appeared to be clapping along. A pair of ice dancers giggling in delight. The occasional sponsor who seemed to be pretending to look serious, but were barely holding back smiles. 

Yuuri had assumed all of the sponsors were disgusted with his display, so it was a bit of a relief to know at least some of them found him amusing. His eyes continued to scan over the crowd, until he landed on a familiar hat. Marcus Dale; his and Yuri’s number one suspect. Despite the lack of concrete evidence, Yuuri couldn’t help but feel something was still off about him, no matter how much James insisted that he was harmless. 

Yuuri scanned through the pictures again, this time keeping an eye on Dale. The man was present in the background of a few, but not all of the pictures, showing various levels of interest in the proceedings. He wasn’t doing anything suspicious, but Yuuri found himself looking for any details that might make him feel otherwise. He zoomed in on each picture of Dale, squinting as the fuzziness of the image increased. 

He focused on the details; who the man was talking to, what he was looking at, what he was holding. In most of the pictures, he was casually showing interest in what Yuuri and Victor were doing. In one, he was chatting with his assistant. Of course, it was impossible to know what they were talking about from a photo, but Mr. Dale seemed to be discussing something eagerly, while James was watching the dance. It was hard to tell from the low quality of the zoomed image but James looked almost...intense. Yuuri frowned. He must have just been caught at a bad angle. 

To prove his theory correct, Yuuri scrolled to the next picture. James was barely in frame, hovering at the corner of Yuuri’s screen. In this shot, he was a little closer to the camera, so Yuuri was able to get a better look at his face. It was a strange expression, one that Yuuri had never seen on the man’s face before. James was usually so cheery, and just a tad awkward. The expression on his face seemed so out of place on him. It was hard to describe exactly what he was seeing, but if Yuuri had to pick a word, it was _predatory_. 

Yuuri almost dropped his phone in shock. It couldn’t be. He had to be mistaken. James had been nothing but kind and helpful, even when Yuuri had been probing him for information. Was it all a lie? He scrolled through the other pictures, and sure enough, when James was present, he had the same look on his face. All directed at Victor. 

Build-wise, it worked. James was the right height, and right body type. But what about motivation? Why would he kidnap Victor? Financially, it didn’t make sense. It’s not like he would benefit from Victor not skating. In fact, it was probably the opposite. And why would James want to hurt Victor, anyway? He was a fan, just like Yuuri! Something wasn’t adding up. It just didn’t make any sense. 

With no other idea about what to do, Yuuri decided to do a quick Google search on James Harrison. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, maybe a news article about his dark past, but he only found articles about Dale, with James only mentioned in passing. Yuuri sat back, realizing he had quite literally been on the edge of his seat. It had to be a coincidence. Sure, the look James was giving Victor was concerning, but that didn’t mean he was the kidnapper. Yuuri wasn’t necessarily great at reading people, maybe it was just intense lust? Victor did look particularly beautiful in the photos, it wouldn’t surprise Yuuri if James was lusting after Victor. Yuuri would be a hypocrite if he said he’d never felt the same. 

It was just his paranoia talking. James had no motive, and nothing tying him to the crime. Yuuri needed to stop accusing everyone of abducting Victor or he was going to run out of allies. Feeling a little ashamed, Yuuri went to exit out of his Google search, but an article caught his eye at the bottom of the screen. 

_Local Theater Kid Makes it Big on Broadway!_

Curious, Yuuri opened the article. It was a small town paper from a city in America that Yuuri didn’t recognize. It sounded vaguely midwestern, but he wasn’t sure. The article featured a few pictures of a boy wearing costumes at various ages. A toddler at what looked like his first dance recital, a pimply pre-teen leaping on a school stage, and a gangly teenager, posing with an award that Yuuri couldn’t read. The teen was thinner and younger, but it was obviously James. Yuuri couldn’t help but keep reading.

_Local North High graduate James Harrison has just landed his first big break! Harrison is well known in the community as “the theater kid”, having been the center of every major town production since he could walk. Readers will recognize Harrison for his previous headline as the recipient of one of this country’s most prestigious dance scholarships. Boy has he been busy since then! While little Jamie is no longer playing “Tree Number 5” in the Tiny Tots version of “Into the Woods”, he has not given up his love of dance._

_“James has always been a dancer at heart. We joke that even when he was born he danced his way out!” Harrison’s mother, Angela, reminisces. “The whole family is so proud of what he has achieved.”_

_The sentiment is shared by former classmates and teachers, who were thrilled at Mrs. Harrison’s announcement that her son had landed a spot as a dancer on a Broadway musical (which has not been revealed to us--apparently it’s a secret!) in NYC. Harrison has come a long way from regional theaters and school performances where…_

Yuuri looked up from the article. James never mentioned he was serious about his dancing. He’d told Yuuri he’d pursued it for a while, but not extensively. He’d failed to mention that he’d been good enough to dance professionally, let alone on Broadway. Maybe he just didn’t want to brag, but it seemed like a strange thing to downplay. James had made it sound like he only danced recreationally, and that he wasn’t particularly talented. 

An unpleasant feeling formed in Yuuri’s stomach. He and Yuri had concluded that their culprit was probably some kind of dancer. But still, could it really be the quiet, polite assistant? Yuuri skimmed the rest of the article, gasping when he reached a picture at the bottom. It was James as a young adult, backstage after a show. He was smiling next to a woman that Yuuri assumed was his mother, and he was holding a dancer’s ribbon. 

Yuuri still wanted to believe it was a coincidence. He was a dancer, so it wasn’t that odd for him to be holding a dancer’s ribbon. Right? He opened the pictures Chris had sent him again, focusing on the assistant’s face. The look in his eyes made the knot in Yuuri’s stomach worsen. It was the same flash of green that he kept seeing at the 4CC banquet that made him feel uneasy. Something just felt off. Maybe he should talk to Yuri about it and see if the teen had any other insights. 

While Yuuri knew it was unnecessary to run out and meet Yuri to tell him what he had discovered, Yuuri knew he wouldn’t be able to sit still and wait. He felt like he needed to talk to someone about what he was thinking, or he’d lose his mind. 

**Yuuri** : I’m coming to you. I figured something out and I need to talk about it ASAP

There was only a few seconds of delay before a response came through.

**Yuri** : Call me?

**Yuuri** : No, I need to talk to you in person. It won’t make sense unless I show you

**Yuri** : K. I just put our order in so I’ll wait at one of the tables. 

**Yuuri** : See you soon

Yuuri made sure Makka had food and water, and then grabbed his jacket and hat. Makka whined at him, clearly displeased that her friend was leaving so soon. He offered an apologetic smile and a pat on the head.

“Don’t worry girl, I won’t be gone long.” 

The usual uneasiness spread over Yuuri as he traveled down to the main floor of the building alone. He wondered if he’d ever feel safe alone outside his home again. Yuuri practically charged through the elevator doors as they opened, nearly knocking an elderly woman over. He steadied her, apologizing profusely in a mix of English and Russian.

As much as Yuuri wanted to run to his young friend and tell him the news, he didn’t want to look like a weirdo running around frantically in the city. Especially now that it had started to get dark. How was it getting dark already? Despite the anxiety and energy that were urging Yuuri to run, he settled for a brisk walk. His breath came out in white puffs, although it was hard to see in the last light of the day. 

Yuuri went to turn the corner, then realized that in his haste he had missed his first turn. He cursed at himself. The cafe was just down the street, how was he managing to get himself lost? Fortunately, he could see the street that he needed a couple blocks down. Yuuri turned around and set off again, his pace a little more measured so he didn’t speed walk right past the cafe. His mind was racing with possibilities, and what-ifs. Maybe he should have just run to the cafe, it wasn’t like he was in any state to notice what people were doing or thinking anyway. He had walked the first few blocks in such a haze, Yuuri had no idea if anyone else was even out. 

It wasn’t smart for him to be wandering around so unaware of his surroundings so Yuuri forced himself to focus, just in time to see the cafe he was looking for at the end of an alley on his left side. It was tempting to take the shortcut, as this would cut out a few street crossings and get him there faster. However, on a good day, Yuuri’s anxiety would make him wary of walking through a dark alley in the middle of a city. With the extra paranoia he’d been experiencing since Victor’s abduction, all of his instincts were screaming to keep walking and avoid the shortcut. 

He decided to listen, taking a few steps forward. Then, he stopped, and glanced back down the alley. He could see the end, which meant he could see that no one was down there. It seemed silly to go all the way around, especially when he had already made a wrong turn and made himself later than he wanted. Yuuri took a deep breath and adjusted his hat so all of his hair was covered. If he did happen to run into someone, looking less like a foreigner was probably a good idea so they didn’t try to take advantage of him. 

Hesitantly, Yuuri turned and started making his way through the alley. He stayed vigilant, swiveling his head at every sound, and peeking over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t followed. He wrinkled his nose as he made it about a third into the alley. It smelled awful, like someone was using it as a toilet. Fortunately, whoever that someone was, they didn’t seem to be around. Other than a stray cat that startled Yuuri and made his heart pound, the alley was quiet. He could hear the city sounds on either end of him, and he started walking a little faster to get to the cafe. When he reached the halfway point, Yuuri realized that there was another side alley that extended from the corridor he was in that turned around a dark corner. Cautiously, Yuuri peeked into the dark. He reached into his pocket so he could use the flashlight on his phone, then cursed when his hand grasped nothing. Apparently, he’d been in such a hurry that he’d forgotten his phone. So not only was he walking down a creepy, dark alley alone at dusk, he didn’t even have his phone if he needed to call for help. Plus, the pictures he needed to show Yuri were on that phone. Yuuri cursed again. It was tempting to go back, but at this point he was closer to the cafe than home, so Yuuri decided to push on, especially after he felt a chill run up his spine. He glanced around one more time, but didn’t see anything. It must be his nerves. 

Yuuri was ready to set out at a brisk pace that was barely short of a run, but his foot caught on something and he felt himself stumble. He tried to catch himself, but he wasn’t able to keep his balance, and Yuuri found himself hitting the cold, dirty ground. He hissed in pain as his shoulder took the brunt of the impact. The day just kept getting worse, didn’t it? 

Yuuri found himself grateful that he’d learned a few good curse words from Yuri and Yakov, because he’d found himself needing to use them all that day. Standing up and brushing himself off, Yuuri made a disgusted noise as his hand came away from his shirt damp. 

“Great. Just great. I can’t believe--” 

His rambling protests were cut off as something covered Yuuri’s nose and mouth. Yuuri tried to struggle, but strong arms held him tight, and kept a cloth over his face. He kicked out, and heard a grunt of pain behind him, but he could quickly feel his strength fading. Yuuri tried to scream, and when that was muffled he tried to hold his breath to avoid breathing any more of what was on the cloth. But he couldn’t keep it up. The arms gently lowered him to the ground, shushing him quietly and murmuring something that Yuuri couldn’t process. He batted uselessly at his attacker one more time, until darkness overtook him.

Occasionally, Yuuri would register a sound, or light, or the feeling of himself being moved, but whenever he’d start to regain awareness, he’d hear more shushing and find his face covered again. Even when he was awake, Yuuri had no awareness of where he was, or what was happening. Once, he thought he managed to yell, but the only response he got was a low laugh. Or maybe it was a dream. 

When Yuuri finally awoke fully, feeling groggy and disoriented, he groaned. He couldn’t figure out what happened, or where he was. The first thing he realized was that he was laying on a cot, but he didn’t know why. Yuuri sat up, feeling dizzy.

“Take it easy. Don’t sit up too fast.”

Yuuri froze. He knew that voice, but he shouldn’t be hearing it. Yuuri turned his head to the side, and looked directly into the blue eyes of Victor Nikiforov.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Abduction, non-consensual drug use


	7. Terror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri found Victor...but at what cost?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See bottom for warnings. Things get intense this chapter O_O
> 
> Please let me know if I need to add a tag/warning!

Yuuri was dead, he had to be. That was the only explanation for why he was looking at the familiar face of Victor Nikiforov. Or rather, a pale, somewhat sickly version of Victor Nikiforov. Victor’s hair was longer than Yuuri had seen it in years, but it wasn’t bright and smooth like it had been when he was a teen. Jagged ends fell barely below Victor’s ears, and the color looked more dull gray than vibrant silver. His cheeks were too prominent, and his muscles looked like they had wasted away. If Yuuri didn’t know better, he’d think he was looking at a ghost. 

Actually, Yuuri didn’t know better. Maybe he was. “Victor…?”

Victor nodded solemnly.

Yuuri swallowed hard. “Am I...dead?”

“No…” Victor replied, looking at Yuuri sadly. “But you might wish you were.”

Yuuri thought he felt his heart stop. He looked around, surveying his surroundings. The room was dark, and smelled musty. There was a dull, flickering light overhead that barely illuminated their surroundings, and two block windows on the adjacent walls that were too obscured by frosted glass to see outside. It was hard to make out details in the room, but he could see another cot, which Victor was sitting on, and a set of flimsy shelves filled with some food, a few books, silverware and plates, and other items that Yuuri couldn’t see well enough to identify. There was a plastic bucket in the middle of the room next to a drain, and a lone toilet in the corner across the room. If Yuuri had to guess, they were in some kind of basement or cellar, judging by how dark and dusty it was. There were cobwebs clinging to pipes above them, and dust bunnies rolling around on the floor that made Yuuri wonder when the last time this room had been cleaned.

Realistically, that was the least of his concerns. He needed to be less worried about the cleanliness of the room he was in and more worried about where he was and why he was here. Yuuri looked back at Victor, a million questions running through his mind and the feeling of panic bubbling under the surface. “Where are we?”

Victor shrugged. “Geographically? No idea.”

“This is where you’ve been? This whole time?”

“Yeah,” Victor confirmed, seeming far too nonchalant for a person that had been held captive for 5 months.

“Is James Harrison behind this? Marcus Dale’s assistant?”

Victor nodded. “Yeah. How did you know that? I didn’t figure it out until I woke up here with him hovering over me.”

Yuuri really didn’t feel like now was the time to sit down and explain what he and Yuri had been working on. “It’s a long story. I’ve been sort of trying to figure out what happened to you. Yuri too.” 

“Really?” Victor looked surprised. 

“Yeah,” Yuuri nodded. He wanted to keep the conversation going to stop his growing panic, but he could already feel his heart racing and his hands shaking. Yuuri stood up suddenly, drawing a questioning noise from Victor.

There had to be a way out. He would find it. Yuuri strode across the room, until he reached a heavy metal door. It looked old, and sturdy. There was a long lever in place of a doorknob, which didn’t budge when he tried to move it. He pulled harder, pressing all of his weight down onto the lever, but it still didn’t move. Next, he tried kicking the door, then shouldering it. The metal frame didn’t even rattle, despite Yuuri throwing his entire body weight into his efforts.

_ Don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic! _

“Yuuri! Stop, you’re going to hurt yourself!” 

Yuuri ignored Victor, a buzzing sound growing in his mind. He  _ had _ to get out of here! If the door wouldn’t work, he’d try the window. Yuuri crossed the room, still ignoring Victor. His breath was starting to come faster now, but he wasn’t going to quit. He stood underneath one of the windows, but it was too high. He needed something to step on to reach it. Glancing around, there wasn’t much. The cot wasn’t very high off the ground, and the shelving didn’t look sturdy enough. The bucket though…

Yuuri approached the bucket, considering its height. It looked fairly sturdy, and he estimated that it would give him enough height. The bucket was full of water, so Yuuri grabbed it and started tipping it so he could empty it.

“What are you doing?!” Victor wailed, sprinting across the room and shoving Yuuri away.

Stumbling, Yuuri caught his balance and gaped at Victor. “I’m trying to find a way out of here! What are  _ you _ doing?!” 

Victor stepped in front of the bucket, looking almost feral with panic. “I’m trying to keep you from dumping our water!” 

Yuuri frowned. “Our water?” 

“This is our water supply. Sometimes it gets topped off, sometimes it doesn’t. We have to ration it,” Victor explained. 

“ _ That’s _ our water?!” Yuuri peeked around Victor, who was still hovering protectively in front of the bucket. It smelled mildewy and had flecks of dirt in it, as well as a dead spider floating on the surface. There was no way Yuuri was going to drink that.

“Just be glad we have water,” Victor said ominously, shuddering. 

Yuuri shook his head frantically. This wasn’t happening. This was the kind of thing that happened in bad horror movies, not in real life. “Let me use the bucket to stand on, and I can push one of those windows open.” He took a tentative step toward Victor.

“No,” Victor said firmly, taking a step forward to meet Yuuri. “Please stop this,” he begged.

“You don’t understand, I  _ have  _ to get out of here!” Yuuri rushed forward, trying to grab the bucket.

Victor intercepted him, attempting to push Yuuri back but failing completely. He was far too weak after months of imprisonment, and Yuuri was able to easily overpower him. He was just about to grab the bucket again when Victor yelled, “Don’t you think I tried that?! Don’t you think I tried everything to get out of here?!” 

Yuuri froze, turning back toward Victor with wide eyes. Victor was shaking, tears falling from his eyes. “There’s no way out. The windows won’t budge, and they’re too small for either of us to fit, anyway. The walls are solid, and the door only opens when  _ he _ wants it to. There are no vents to climb through, no one around to send a signal too, nothing. I tried it all.” Victor’s shaking became more violent. “When I tried...he...he…”

Victor dropped to the floor so fast that Yuuri yelped in surprise. He curled into a ball, hugging his knees to his chest and sobbing. In that moment, Yuuri realized two things: first, Victor seemed to be having a panic attack, and second, Yuuri was about to have one of his own. Everything hit him all at once, and Yuuri’s anxiety finally bubbled over. He sunk to the floor, less violently than Victor, and took gasping breaths as he felt a wave of panic overtake him. 

He had been abducted. He had been  _ abducted _ . His family didn’t know where he was. Oh god, what if he never saw them again? What if he never got to see the triplets grow up? What if he never got to hug his parents or his sister ever again? What if he never got to see Phichit’s smile or Yuri’s scowl ever again? What if he never got to make things right with Phichit or Chris? Victor said there was no way out, was he going to die here?

Vaguely, Yuuri could hear Victor’s own gasping sobs echoing his own, but by the time he felt awareness come back to him, he felt too drained to do anything for the other man. He weakly watched Victor cry himself out, taking deep breaths to try to calm himself. It crossed his mind that maybe he should do some grounding exercises, but it seemed a little late for that now. 

Eventually, after a very prolonged period of silence only broken by ragged breathing, Victor uncurled himself and crawled over to the bucket of water. He cupped his hands and scooped up the cool liquid, quenching his thirst. Yuuri shuddered as he thought about how dirty the water had looked. When Victor seemed satisfied, he shakily stood up, offering Yuuri a hand. Yuuri accepted it, and let Victor lead him back over to the cots. Victor gestured to one cot for Yuuri to sit down, and Yuuri complied. Victor sat down across from him. His eyes were red and puffy, and despite the seriousness of the situation, Yuuri’s inner fanboy was struggling to comprehend seeing Victor Nikiforov look so vulnerable. He was so used to seeing the champion skater looking poised and confident. 

With a shaky inhale, Victor finally broke the silence and said, “It’s...it’s not so bad here, once you get used to it.”

Yuuri gaped at him. “What?”

“If you’re good, James will let you go upstairs. You can shower, and sleep in a real bed.” Victor smiled weakly. “He even let me skate a few times. He has a small rink set up.” 

If Yuuri didn’t feel so drained from his panic attack, he probably would have flown into a rage. “If I’m good,” Yuuri repeated dryly. 

“Yeah,” Victor replied, not seeming to notice Yuuri’s tone. “Just do what he says and don’t try to escape.” 

Yuuri scowled. “You can’t be serious.” 

“Of course I’m serious.” Victor fidgeted nervously. 

“Victor, come on. There’s two of us and only one of him. I’m still in peak competition shape, we can take him,” Yuuri insisted. 

Victor shook his head violently. “No, we can’t. Trust me, you don’t want to try that.”

Standing up suddenly, Yuuri yelled, “It’s better than rotting away down here!” 

To Yuuri’s surprise, Victor shrunk away under his anger. “No it’s not,” he whispered. “Yuuri, you have to trust me. Don’t try anything. Please,” he begged. 

“I’m going to get us out of here,” Yuuri promised. “With or without your help,” he snapped. He couldn’t believe that Victor was just going to sit back and let himself be resigned to his fate. How could he not even want to try?

“Yuuri, please,” Victor pleaded again. 

Three firm knocks sounded on the door just as Yuuri was about to snap at Victor again. Victor flinched, then scrambled over to the far wall, facing away from the door. He stared straight at the dirty wall, only inches away. 

“What are you doing?” Yuuri questioned, looking between Victor and the door. 

“Just do what I do,” Victor hissed, sounding rushed. “You’ll make him mad if you don’t.” 

Yuuri didn’t budge. “Then he’s going to have to come in here and make me move.” 

“Yuuri--” 

Victor was cut off by the sound of metal screeching against metal. Yuuri grimaced at the noise, turning to look at the door. A metal slat had opened, sliding roughly along its tracks. Yuuri could see a pair of eyes peeking through, and he mustered the most defiant glare he could manage. The eyes locked onto him, and Yuuri couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran down his spine. He knew who was on the other side of that door.

“Hey, asshole!” Yuuri shouted, doing his best impression of Yuri. “You can’t keep us here!” He tried to sound firm, but those green eyes staring him down were making him lose his nerve. He was trying not to let himself be intimidated, to think of James as the awkward assistant that Yuuri knew him as, but in the back of his mind, he also knew what this man was capable of. 

To Yuuri’s surprise, James responded to his baiting. “Actually, I can.” He sounded remarkably sure of himself. “You’ll realize soon enough that I’m the one in control here.”

“Why don’t you come in here and prove it?” Yuuri challenged. 

James didn’t budge. “I’ll pass. I was just coming to bring you some dinner, but I guess you don’t want it.” The metal slat closed, and the door was solid again.

Yuuri’s stomach dropped and he rushed over to the door, trying to pry his fingernails into the small space where the slat closed. If he got it open, maybe he could reach through and get to the locks.  _ If  _ he could get it open. The slat didn’t want to budge, and Yuuri only gave up after a hard pull that broke a few of his nails. He swore, shaking his hand.

“What have you done?” Victor whimpered. 

Yuuri turned to face him. “It will be ok. I’ll get us out of here.” 

“What have you done?” Victor repeated again, shaking his head.

“Victor, it will be ok,” Yuuri promised with false confidence. His pulse was starting to race. 

Victor kept shaking his head and started pacing. He started babbling in Russian, gesturing with his hands. Yuuri heard his own name a few times, but he couldn’t understand what Victor was saying. 

“Victor?” Yuuri asked tentatively, taking a step toward the older skater. Victor’s behavior was worrying him. Victor didn’t answer, continuing his pacing and his murmuring. Yuuri walked toward him, calling out again. “Victor!” he said louder, but the other man still continued his odd pattern. 

Once he reached Victor, he snapped his fingers in front of his face. Victor jumped, startling and looking at Yuuri with wide eyes. He almost looked like a feral animal. 

“Sorry,” Victor mumbled, wrapping his arms around himself. He looked so small, so frail. Yuuri never imagined Victor could look like that. 

Yuuri wanted to ask what happened, but he held his tongue. He really hadn’t thought about how long Victor had been here, or what he’d been through. “No, I’m sorry. I’m not exactly great under pressure.” 

Victor glanced up at him, but didn’t meet his eyes. “Just stop fighting,” he requested quietly. 

Yuuri hesitated, but ultimately shook his head. “I can’t do that,” he replied stubbornly. 

“Then you’ve doomed us both,” Victor said ominously.

Yuuri took a step forward, and Victor shrunk back. He paused his advance, blinking in surprise. Never in a million years did Yuuri ever imagine a scenario where Victor Nikiforov would be nervous about  _ him _ . Yuuri didn’t want to think about what Victor might have gone through that would make him so jumpy. Other than his obvious malnourishment, he looked surprisingly ok. There weren’t any obvious wounds or scars, and he didn’t seem to be injured. Hopefully that meant that James wasn’t planning on actively hurting them, but Yuuri was too scared to ask. 

Yuuri said softly, “I just want to go home.” He started tearing up. “My family is probably worried sick.” Yuuri started sobbing at the confession, hearing the plop of his tears on the floor echoing through the sparse room. “I just want to go home...” he repeated. 

Victor took a few steps toward Yuuri before stopping in front of him. He held out a hand hesitantly, but ultimately pulled it back until it hung limply at his side. “Me too,” Victor murmured.

“Then why won’t you try?” Yuuri sniffled, looking up at Victor.

Victor fidgeted nervously. “I told you, I did try. It didn’t end well.”

“But now there’s two of us--”

“No.” 

A flash of anger briefly passed through Yuuri and he tensed up, making Victor do the same. The feeling left him as quickly as it had come, and he slumped in defeat. Victor relaxed as Yuuri’s anger faded. “I don’t understand,” Yuuri admitted. 

Victor sighed, then carefully led Yuuri back to the cot and sat him down. He walked away briefly, returning with a stained rag. He offered the rag to Yuuri. “To blow your nose,” he explained.

Yuuri took the rag, holding it between his fingertips like it was something disgusting. Which it was. The rag was a dusty grey, and full of stains that he didn’t want to think about. Still, it seemed to be his only option, so Yuuri gave in and blew his nose, grateful that he was too stuffed up to smell it. Once he was done, he set the rag next to him and looked at Victor expectantly. The other man had a look on his face like he wanted to say something. 

Victor took a shaky breath, then explained, “When I got here, I was just like you. I was determined to get out, to fight. One time, I even got a pretty good punch in.” Instead of looking triumphant, Victor shuddered. 

“Did...did James hurt you?” Yuuri asked hesitantly. 

Nodding, Victor confirmed Yuuri’s fears. “Yeah. He always has a knife on him, and he’s really fast. But that wasn’t the bad part.”

Confused, Yuuri responded, “I don’t get it.” 

“Look around,” Victor replied. “Where are we?”

Yuuri did as Victor said, glancing around at their barren surroundings. “We’re in a basement, I think.” 

“Do you see running water? Or a pantry?” 

“No,” Yuuri replied, shaking his head. His stomach clenched as he realized where Victor was going with this. 

“Exactly. We have nothing down here. James brings food, water, and entertainment. What do you think he’ll do if he’s mad at us?” Victor asked, sounding accusatory.

Swallowing hard, Yuuri replied, “I didn’t think about that.” 

With an irritated huff, Victor replied, “Of course you didn’t. That’s why I tried to stop you, but you wouldn’t listen.” 

Yuuri threw his hands up. “What did you expect! For me to just roll over and give up without even trying?” 

“Yes!” Victor snapped. “I told you it was a bad idea! Now we’ll be lucky if we get any food at all!” All of his previous softness melted away into anger and frustration.

“I didn’t know!” Yuuri shot back. “And anyway, that’s more reason for us to fight back! We can’t let him just treat us like this!” 

Victor made a frustrated sound. “Why won’t you listen? There is no way out! All you’ve managed to do is piss off the person that controls all of our basic necessities.”

Refusing to back down, Yuuri shook his head furiously. “I can’t believe you. You’re just going to let this monster do whatever he wants with you?” Feeling disgusted, Yuuri snarled, “I thought you’d be better than that.”

Victor narrowed his eyes. “And I thought you’d be less of a selfish jerk. What you’re doing affects both of us! Have you ever gone without food or water? Or bathing? Or clean clothes?” He clenched his fists. “How about light? Who do you think has access to the electrical panel? Have you ever spent  _ weeks _ in total darkness? Have you ever been alone so long that you started hallucinating?” Victor gritted his teeth, shaking his head as if to clear away a memory.

Yuuri was speechless. “I…” he didn’t know what to say. He’d never experienced those things, and he’d never thought he’d have to. 

“ _ Of course _ I stopped fighting. I was given a choice between begging for scraps like a stray, or eating a warm, home cooked meal. Which do you think I chose?” Victor asked accusingly. 

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri apologized. He could no longer feel anger past the terror bubbling under his skin. He had been so busy thinking about the ways James could physically hurt them, he didn’t think about anything psychological. 

Scoffing, Victor responded, “You being sorry doesn’t fix anything.” He stood up from his cot, turning away from Yuuri like he couldn’t stand to look at him. “I just hope he only punishes you.” 

The words stung, but Yuuri felt like he deserved them. “Victor--”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Victor snapped. He walked across the room, approaching the makeshift bookshelf and rearranging the contents. Yuuri got the impression he was just doing something idly so he didn’t have to look at Yuuri.

Yuuri stared at his back, having a hard time processing everything that had happened. He didn’t know what else to do, so he laid down on the cot, curling into himself and crying for the umpteenth time since he’d gotten to this horrible place. He thought about his friends and family, and it only made him cry harder. Yuuri could picture his mother’s face, her eyes filled with tears. Yuuko and Takeshi would have to explain to the triplets what happened to him. Minako would probably drink herself into a stupor, maybe with his father. Even Mari, who was normally so stoic, would be shaking with sadness and rage. It was painful to think about the people closest to him hurting so much. And even worse, he hadn’t even bothered to stay in touch. His family almost always had to initiate phone calls, and Yuuri was always so distracted during them because he’d been so worried about them bringing up Victor. 

Was this his fault? Had James figured out that he and Yuri were getting close to the truth? It seemed like a horrible coincidence that James  _ happened _ to take him right as he was about to tell Yuri what he had discovered. Yuuri felt bile rising in his throat at the thought. Oh god, he had brought this on himself, hadn’t he? If he had just left the police work to the police, like they told him, he would have never been caught. Yuuri was suddenly filled with panic. Would James go after Yuri too? 

Yuuri whimpered, clutching at his shirt so hard his knuckles turned white. Victor didn’t react to his tears, ignoring Yuuri until he turned the lights off and crawled back onto his own cot. Yuuri could hear him shifting around in the dark, followed by the sound of soft snores. He had no idea how Victor could sleep down here. The cot wasn’t particularly comfortable, and he didn’t have a blanket or a pillow. His neck was already aching from the angle he was resting at, and he kept shivering as a draft blew over him. Without the buzzing sound of the singular light, the silence was heavy and eerie. Yuuri was grateful for the sound of Victor’s breathing, because otherwise he thought he might go mad in the quiet. It didn’t seem to actually be night time, judging by the small amount of light seeping through the frosted windows, but it was still nearly pitch black. 

He didn’t sleep at all. When Victor rose from his cot at some undetermined time and turned the light on, Yuuri was curled up in the same spot. He winced as the room was lit up, squinting. The light was not particularly effective in the large space, but he was positioned right under it, so the sudden illumination made his eyes hurt. 

Victor continued to ignore Yuuri, shuffling around the room and going about his day. Yuuri heard the sound of splashing water and slurping as Victor quenched his thirst. Then, the unmistakable sound of him relieving himself in the toilet in the corner. Yuuri flinched at the awkwardness, doing his best to ignore the noise until he heard a flush. Unfortunately, the sound reminded him of his own needs. He hadn’t used the toilet since he’d been brought here. He didn’t know how much time had passed, but he felt like he was going to burst. He wanted to ignore it, so he didn’t have to degrade himself in front of his long-time idol, but he couldn’t ignore the feeling for long.

Reluctantly, Yuuri sat up. He noticed Victor grabbing something off of the food shelf, inspecting the contents carefully. Yuuri recognized the sound of a bag of chips opening, and his stomach rumbled as he watched Victor eat the first one. He shook his head. There was no way he’d be able to think about food until he went to the bathroom. 

Yuuri stood up, stretching as he went. His neck and back were aching, but he couldn’t stop and think about that now. Yuuri dragged himself over to the single toilet, trying not to gag at how discolored and dilapidated it looked. Bits of porcelain were broken off, and there was no seat. It looked like it had never been cleaned. 

Still, it would serve its purpose. Yuuri looked over at Victor, who was still munching on chips near the shelf of food. He was far too close for Yuuri to feel comfortable. Not that Yuuri would feel comfortable at all down here, but it would probably be less weird if Victor wasn’t a few yards away from him. “Um, Victor? Could you…?”

Victor looked up, staring blankly at Yuuri. He shrugged, but seemed to get the message. The Russian skater turned around, walking back to his cot with his breakfast. It would have to do. Yuuri pushed away the embarrassment as much as he could, finally relieving himself. As the toilet flushed, he automatically looked around for a sink, wincing as he remembered that there was no running water. 

“Should I use the bucket to wash my hands?” Yuuri asked tentatively.

Victor scoffed at him. “We don’t know if or when we will get water again, and you want to wash your hands?” He shook his head. 

“Right. Sorry,” Yuuri replied with a frown. He looked around awkwardly, unsure of what to do. He settled on examining the bookshelf. His stomach was growling louder now, but it didn’t seem right to take Victor’s food considering their current concerns. Plus, he was still in good shape. Victor clearly needed the food more than Yuuri did. 

Yuuri’s mind was buzzing, so he picked a book at random and took it back to his cot. Victor got up as soon as he came over, walking over to the door to deposit the now empty bag of chips in a pile of trash and dishes. Yuuri sighed sadly. He’d really messed up. Victor might be his only companion for the rest of his life, and he’d already made the other man hate him. Yuuri suppressed a bitter laugh. So much for meeting his idol on the ice as equals. Instead, he’d met his idol in a lunatic’s basement and pissed him off so bad that they couldn’t even hold a conversation. 

Yuuri gripped at the book, opening it to the first page to distract himself. He read the paragraph over and over, but couldn’t comprehend what it said. His mind was too fuzzy to focus on the words on the page. It also didn’t help that at some point, Victor had started pacing the room, mumbling to himself on occasion. Yuuri watched him curiously, trying to figure out what his fellow captive was doing. Victor had a blank expression on his face, and seemed to be following the same pattern on loop. Back corner to front corner, turn right, and again. It reminded him of a horrible roadside zoo he’d been to when he was a kid. He and his classmates had watched a lion in a concrete cage pace back and forth with the same kind of blank expression that Victor was wearing. He vaguely remembered the word his teacher had used: stereotypy. Yuuri supposed they weren’t very different from that lion now, locked in their own cage. He decided it was best not to say anything, and tried focusing on his book instead. 

Time dragged on, but Yuuri wasn’t able to focus on the words in front of him. Victor would pace for a while, occasionally chattering in English, Russian, or French, then he would busy himself by tidying things that didn’t look like they needed to be tidied. He’d rearrange food on the shelf, or shift the position of his cot. All the while, not looking at Yuuri. Yuuri spent his own day alternating between crying and staring blankly at a book with a title that he still hadn’t looked at. He held off as long as he could on using the disgusting toilet in the corner, and refused to take any of the stored food or water. If James really was going to withhold nourishment from them, it was only fair that he let Victor have it, since it was his fault. Even if his mouth was getting dry and his stomach was gurgling relentlessly. 

Somehow, enough time passed that Victor turned the lights off again. Yuuri slept as terribly as the first night (he decided to call it “night” even though it really wasn’t), tossing and turning on his cot. The next day, the cycle repeated. Victor paced, and Yuuri sobbed. Yuuri still refused to take any food or water. He tried other books, but couldn’t focus on them any better. He thought about imitating Victor’s pacing, but his body felt far too heavy and his head was starting to hurt. 

And then, the lights went out again. Yuuri thought he should be exhausted enough to sleep, but he couldn’t. This time, when the lights came on, Yuuri couldn’t find the strength to get up. He felt like his body was made of lead, and he had a splitting headache. The upside of not eating or drinking was that he didn’t need to use the toilet as much, but eventually, nature called. Yuuri forced himself up, suppressing a wave of nausea. He shakily rose to his feet, black immediately overtaking his vision. 

The next thing Yuuri knew, he was flat on his back, and looking up into the eyes of his captor. His head was throbbing where he had landed on the hard ground, and the cold concrete was making him shiver. Or maybe it was the impassive expression on James’s face that was making him feel chilled. 

“Two days? That’s as long as you can last?” James shook his head, looking at Yuuri disapprovingly. “I’m not impressed.” 

Despite Yuuri’s body feeling like it was tied down by weights, the surge of adrenaline was enough to help him launch himself at James. He reached out, hoping to pull the man over, but James gracefully sidestepped his grabbing hands, stomping down on fingers. Yuuri howled in pain, but didn’t have time to respond before James was pinning him to the ground, a knife at his throat and the man’s full weight on his chest. Yuuri felt the tip of the blade digging into his skin, followed by hot droplets rolling down his neck. Yuuri whimpered, going limp in his captor’s embrace. 

James looked down at him, his expression cold. “I thought you were smarter than this. Hasn’t Victor explained how things work around here?” 

Yuuri swallowed hard, feeling his throat press into the knife. He managed to muster up a glare, scowling at James. Maybe it was a bad idea to snark at his captor, but Yuuri couldn’t help himself. “You can’t keep us here!” he hissed.

“Didn’t we already have this conversation? I can do whatever I want with you,” James threatened. 

Yuuri shuddered involuntarily at the words. “Why are you doing this? What do you want from us?” his voice broke. Those questions had been plaguing him since he’d woken up here. 

James smiled, almost lovingly. He looked like the man Yuuri had met months ago at 4CC, not a murderer that was keeping two people locked in his basement. “No one moves like you do on the ice. Not even Victor. I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner.” James looked fond, like he was recalling a favorite memory. “I guess you just needed the right motivation to show us what you could do. From the moment I saw you on the ice at Japanese Nationals, I knew I needed to have you.” 

Yuuri’s jaw dropped. That couldn’t be right. His skating wasn’t special. “You...abducted me because you like my skating?” 

To Yuuri’s surprise, James laughed. “It sounds barbaric when you put it like that.” 

“Because it is!” Yuuri snapped. 

“Have I not been a gracious host thus far? Ask Victor about the nice things I’ve bought for him,” James replied cheerfully. 

“You kidnapped us! You’re keeping us locked up in this disgusting basement!” Yuuri narrowed his eyes. “You’re sick. You’re a monster.” 

The smile dropped off of James’s face, and Yuuri felt the knife digging across the skin of his neck. It didn’t feel deep enough to cause serious damage, but it stung, and the sensation of having a sharp object dragged over one of the most vulnerable places on his body was incredibly disconcerting. Yuuri flailed, trying to push James away, but his head was aching, his fingers that had been stomped on wouldn’t move, and his body was weak from exhaustion. 

“I don’t appreciate name calling,” James snarled. 

Yuuri continued to thrash, but he couldn’t break free. His eyes darted over to Victor, who was standing in front of the opposite wall like he had been the last time the door opened, his shoulders hunched. “Victor! Help! Help me!” Yuuri called, hoping the two of them could overpower James. Victor didn’t budge.

“Victor knows the rules,” James chastised. “You still need to learn.” He punctuated his statement with a harsh punch to Yuuri’s gut, before rising off of him and backing away. 

Yuuri wheezed, feeling like the air got punched out of him. He watched cautiously as James circled around him, retreating to the door without letting Yuuri out of his line of sight. “Fuck you,” he rasped as James reached for the door handle. 

James’s expression turned ugly, and for a moment, Yuuri was worried about what kind of retaliation he’d receive. Then, the man started smiling, and laughing like he’d just heard the best joke in the world. “Who knew Japan’s Ace had such a mouth? You are much feistier than I expected.” Still chuckling to himself, James slipped through the door. The heavy steel slammed shut, and locks clicked into place. Then, the metal slat was being pulled open, and James was peering back into the room. “Let me know when you’re ready to apologize.” With that final request, James closed the slat, and the room was still. 

Once Yuuri felt like he could breathe again, he held his hand up to his throat, trying to stop the bleeding. It didn’t seem like enough blood to be dangerous, but his head was spinning and he felt dizzy. It was definitely more blood than he’d ever seen come out of himself before. His right hand felt swollen, and he couldn’t bend his fingers. He was worried that they were broken. 

Victor appeared in front of Yuuri so fast, it made him yelp and fall back. Victor knelt down, reaching forward slowly with a towel. “It’s the cleanest one we have,” Victor explained. “Put pressure on it. You’ll be alright.” He spoke softly. 

Yuuri complied, letting Victor hold the towel up to his neck. Meanwhile, he was  _ definitely _ panicking. He could have died.  _ He could have died! _ And apparently, James abducting Yuuri had nothing to do with figuring out he took Victor, and everything to do with his skating. How did that make any sense?! Who could possibly like Yuuri’s skating that much? If Yuuri wasn’t locked in the man’s basement, he would have been sure he was lying. 

Seeming satisfied that Yuuri had sufficient pressure on the wound, Victor helped him up, looping an arm around Yuuri’s waist, and leading him toward the water bucket. Yuuri stumbled, but managed to make it. Victor sat him down carefully, then cupped his hands and held them up to Yuuri’s lips. Yuuri hesitated, but ultimately leaned forward and sucked down the tepid water. It tasted as mildewy as it looked, and made Yuuri scrunch his nose, but he immediately craved more. He was about to reach in with his good hand, when he noticed the blood all over it. He didn’t want to dirty their water supply. Victor seemed to understand, and offered another handful. 

Yuuri accepted the water gratefully, and kept drinking until he guiltily remembered that Victor said this was their only water. Sheepishly, he turned away from Victor, tears stinging his eyes. He tried not to cry, because that would only dehydrate him more. Victor rubbed his back soothingly. 

“Why are you being nice to me?” Yuuri asked, his voice shaking along with his entire body. He kept himself turned away from Victor. He wanted to be mad at Victor for refusing to help him, but he was starting to understand his hesitancy to fight back. 

“You’re hurt. And upset,” Victor replied, matter-of-factly.

“But I was an ass,” Yuuri admitted. 

“True, but so was I.” Victor smiled slightly, trying to comfort Yuuri.

It didn’t help. “I shouldn’t have pushed him like that. I’m sorry. Really, I’m sorry.” 

“I know,” Victor sighed. “I’m sorry too. I should have been more understanding. I’ve been here so long, I forgot what it was like when I first got here.” 

“Just tell me you told me so.”

Victor chuckled lightly. “Alright, I told you so.” He studied Yuuri, carefully peeling the towel back to look at the wound on his neck. “It doesn’t look too deep. We should just make sure we keep it clean.” He shifted to Yuuri’s hand, causing him to hiss with pain. “Your fingers are really swollen,” Victor lamented. “I don’t think there’s much we can do about it down here.” 

Yuuri nodded, expecting that analysis. “Probably not,” he agreed. He looked down at his hand and sure enough, his pointer, middle, and ring fingers on his right hand were double the size of the fingers on his left. 

“Have you eaten since you got here?” Victor asked.

Yuuri shook his head. “No.”

“And I haven’t seen you drink, either. And you don’t seem like you slept,” Victor stated.    
  
  


“No,” Yuuri confirmed. 

Victor sighed again. “No wonder you passed out. Come on.” He helped Yuuri get to his feet, then walked him back to his cot. Once Yuuri was settled, Victor went to the food shelf. He returned with an apple and half a sandwich, offering them to Yuuri.

“I can’t take those.” 

“Why not?” 

“You need it more than I do,” Yuuri explained. “You’ve been here longer.” 

Victor shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. You starving yourself won’t help me.”

“But--”

“Eat,” Victor insisted, pushing the food toward Yuuri. 

Yuuri hesitated, but eventually set the towel down and took the apple. Biting into it, the juice tasted heavenly in his dry mouth, and he quickly ate more. Crunching noises filled the silent basement as Yuuri devoured the apple. Fruit had never tasted so good. He finished it quickly, and Victor held out the sandwich. “At least take half of it for yourself,” Yuuri requested. 

“Alright,” Victor agreed, ripping the sandwich in half. He handed Yuuri his food, slowly nibbling on the other half. 

The sandwich tasted a little off, like it was a bit spoiled, but Yuuri figured they couldn’t be too picky. And anyway, he was too hungry to complain. He devoured the sandwich just as fast as the apple, licking crumbs off of his fingers. Victor was still taking small bites, not even halfway through his tiny meal. 

“If I eat slower, it helps me pretend I have more food,” Victor explained. 

“Oh.” Yuuri hadn’t thought about that. He had been too hungry to think about anything. 

Yuuri watched Victor finish his sandwich, feeling jealous that the other man still had something to munch on. An apple and part of an old sandwich wasn’t enough to make him feel full. At least the food and water had taken some of the edge off, making his head feel a little clearer. 

“I think you should get some sleep now, and then you can bathe once you wake up. It will feel good to get the blood off.” Victor suggested. 

Yuuri nodded. The wound on his neck was still dripping, so he held the towel up to it again. He was starting to lay down, when Victor held up a hand to stop him.

“Move your cot over here. You’re laying right under a draft.” 

Victor helped Yuuri pull his cot away from the draft and toward his own sleeping area. Their cots were only about a foot apart now. Yuuri couldn’t help but blush at the proximity as he sat back down. He took his glasses off, setting them under the cot slightly so he wouldn’t step on them when he woke up, then laid down and closed his eyes. The last thing Yuuri saw was Victor reaching for the light, before it clicked off and then Yuuri heard Victor shuffling back to his cot. He kept holding the first towel against his neck as long as he could, but eventually, his grip went slack. Exhaustion finally caught up with him, and Yuuri fell into a fitful slumber. 

His dreams were horrible, and full of blood. They left him covered in sweat, his pulse pounding when he finally awoke. The towel on his neck had fallen away while he slept, leaving bare skin and dried blood. He tentatively reached a hand up to the cut, which seemed to be sufficiently clotted. As gross as he felt, it was a relief that his neck seemed to be ok. His hand was another story. His three middle-most fingers on his right hand were extremely painful and stiff. He groaned in pain as he palpated the injured area with his other hand. As expected, everything was swollen. 

There was a shuffling sound beside Yuuri. “Are you awake?” Victor whispered.

“Yeah.” 

More shuffling sounds followed, then Victor pulled the string to turn the light on. Yuuri closed his eyes this time so he could have time to adjust. It was much less severe now that he wasn’t directly under it, so the adjustment didn’t take long at all.

“How are you feeling?” Victor asked, sounding genuinely concerned. He walked back over to the set of cots and reached toward Yuuri to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

Yuuri sat up slowly and shrugged. Truthfully, he felt kind of empty. All of his fear and panic had flowed out of him the previous day, leaving shock and disbelief. Nothing really felt real at the moment. 

Victor hummed sympathetically. “I think getting cleaned up will help.” He rose to his feet, stretching his arms over his head. The shirt he was wearing was loose, but short. It rode up as Victor stretched, giving Yuuri a view of Victor’s disturbingly sharp hip bones. There were also a few light scars littering his skin that Yuuri hadn’t seen before. It was a reminder of how long Victor had been here and what he’d endured.

Bile rose up in Yuuri’s throat, but the empty feeling still prevailed. He followed Victor across the room, not even flinching as they took turns using the toilet. Then, Victor picked up a small bucket and a bottle of colored liquid from under the shelf. He gestured to Yuuri to follow him over to the larger bucket in the middle of the room.

“James has been letting me shower upstairs quite a bit, so I haven’t had to do this as often. Still, sometimes it’s a really long time before he takes me up there so I don’t like to wait that long,” Victor explained. “There’s some soap too.” He held up the bottle he’d picked up. 

He couldn’t read the brand name, or any of the words on the bottle, but it looked like dish soap. Yuuri frowned, but didn’t complain. He let Victor continue his explanation.

Victor scooped up a small amount of water in the bucket. “I usually take a few scoops, but since we don’t know when we’ll get water again I think we should just take enough to make sure the cut is clean.” 

Yuuri nodded numbly. “Ok.” 

“Take your shirt off,” Victor instructed. 

Yuuri did as he was told, not finding the strength to be embarrassed. Victor approached him, pulling a rag out of the pocket and dipping it in the water. Yuuri recognized that it was a rag he’d already used, so it probably wasn’t very clean, but there didn’t seem to be other options. Victor put a small amount of soap on the rag, then started gently dabbing at Yuuri’s neck. Yuuri winced as the cold water touched him, but didn’t shrink away.

Victor worked carefully, cleaning him and scrubbing away the dirt. He poured the water directly on the wound to rinse it, and Yuuri shivered as the freezing water dripped down his bare chest. He had to admit though that he did feel better now that there wasn’t blood all over him anymore. He hadn’t even noticed that his shirt had been stained, or that his chest had been bled on as well. Victor cleaned him up carefully, then used the remaining soap and water to scrub at Yuuri’s uninjured hand, which was caked in dried blood after holding it against his neck for so long. Once Victor was satisfied that Yuuri was clean, he walked away and appeared with a frayed towel and a t-shirt. 

“I’ve used the towel, but only after bathing so it should still be pretty clean. I had the shirt stashed under my cot so it’s not too dirty either.” Victor offered both items to Yuuri.

Nodding gratefully, Yuuri dried himself off, then pulled the shirt over his head. He was still a bit chilled from the coldness of the water, but he felt better. The numbness was still there, but Victor’s kindness was helping. 

“Thank you,” Yuuri said genuinely.

Victor smiled, reaching out to squeeze Yuuri’s arm. There was still a part of Yuuri that was freaking out over being in such close proximity to Victor, but Yuuri’s fanboy tendencies didn’t seem particularly important right now. 

“So…” Yuuri fidgeted awkwardly. “What do we do now?” 

Shrugging, Victor replied “Whatever we want. There’s not much to do, obviously, but there’s a few things I rotate through to stay occupied.” He gestured for Yuuri to follow him toward the shelf. When they reached the makeshift storage, Victor pointed to a few items of importance. “We don’t have a lot of places to store things, so I keep most of the supplies over here.” He put the bottle of soap and the small bucket back where he’d gotten them. “I’ll keep clean towels here, although we don’t have any right now. Food is here as well, and some books. There’s some dishes and silverware, but we’re almost out of those too.” 

Yuuri followed Victor’s pointing finger, noting where everything was kept. His stomach grumbled as Victor pointed out the food. It wasn’t a lot, but there were miscellaneous snacks, as well as some half eaten meals. At least they’d have something to eat, even if it wasn’t glamorous. 

Victor noticed where Yuuri was looking. “We’ll have to conserve as much as we can.” 

Yuuri nodded numbly in response. That was easier said than done when his stomach was already grumbling. After adjusting a few items on the shelf, Victor guided them over to the steel door. Yuuri gulped as he remembered the last time it had been opened. 

“This is where I put garbage and dirty dishes,” Victor explained. “James picks them up sometimes when he brings supplies.” 

“How often does he come down here?”

Victor shrugged. “I’m not really sure. It’s hard to keep track of time. Sometimes it feels like hours, sometimes it feels like weeks. But,” Victor continued, “he always knocks three times before he opens the door. After he knocks he opens the slat to make sure I’m where I need to be.” 

“On the wall?” Yuuri guessed, based on Victor’s previous behavior.

Nodding, Victor confirmed, “Yeah. Facing the wall, hands limp at your sides. He’ll only come in if he knows where I am. He’s so careful, and always one step ahead.” 

Yuuri knew Victor was subtly trying to discourage him from any more escape attempts. “Anything else I should know?” He asked, trying to avoid the subject of escaping.

“He doesn’t always come in. Sometimes, he just watches.” Victor shuddered. “I honestly hate that the most.” 

Yuuri glanced at the door nervously. “I just don’t understand. Why would he do this?” If Yuuri was here because of his skating, Victor must be too. 

“I don’t really understand either,” Victor admitted. “He always talks about how beautiful my skating is and how he likes to collect beautiful things. So I guess that’s what we are; beautiful things.” 

Yuuri clenched his fist. “That’s messed up.” 

“Mhm. But don’t say that to him. You’ll make him really mad.” Victor lifted up his shirt and pointed to a jagged scar. 

“Noted,” Yuuri replied dryly. 

Given how small the room was, there wasn’t really anything else for Victor to show him, so the two of them returned to their cots and sat down, awkwardly staring at each other. What were they supposed to say? What kind of conversation did one have with a fellow captive? 

Yuuri was saved from coming up with a topic of conversation when Victor cleared his throat and whispered, “I keep doubting that you’re real. It’s been so long since I’ve seen anyone besides James.” 

“I…” Yuuri wasn’t sure how to respond to that. 

“Sorry.” Victor glanced away from Yuuri, looking embarrassed. “It’s just been so long since…” He sniffled, trailing off. 

Unsure of what else to do, Yuuri tentatively asked, “Do you...need a hug?” 

To Yuuri’s surprise, he seemed to have said the right thing. Victor’s eyes lit up and he started tearing up. “Really?” His voice was small and disbelieving.

“Yeah, of course. Uh, if that’s what you want.” Yuuri awkwardly held his arms open. He wasn’t much of a hugger, but he wanted to offer whatever comfort he could. 

Victor was looking at Yuuri like he was terrified he’d disappear. He slowly stood up, cautiously walking toward Yuuri, his eyes darting toward the door every few seconds. When he reached Yuuri, he hesitated, before carefully wrapping his arms around him. After that, it was like a dam broke. Victor sat down next to Yuuri on the cot, squeezed up against his side and leaning into him. His arms tightened, his whole body shaking. 

It was awkward, and in any other situation, Yuuri would have been internally screaming about Victor Nikiforov touching him. Instead, he grimaced at how bony and frail the Russian champion felt in his arms. Yuuri adjusted his grip so his injured hand, which was still throbbing, was well out of the way. He patted Victor’s back with his good hand, offering soothing words and contact comfort. 

Victor buried his face into the juncture of Yuuri’s neck and shoulder, leaving hot tears on Yuuri’s skin. “I’m sorry.” Victor murmured.

“Don’t be.” Yuuri swallowed hard. “It’s my fault you’re here, anyway.” 

“What?” Victor hiccupped, looking up at Yuuri through tear-filled eyes.

Yuuri’s fingers clenched around Victor’s shirt. “James only got to you because you were out with me. If I hadn’t been such a mess, you wouldn’t have left the banquet early.”

Victor shook his head. “It’s not--”

“It is!” Yuuri insisted. “Not only did you leave early because of me, I was too drunk to help you.” He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force the tears back. “I’m so sorry, Victor.” 

There was a gentle hand on Yuuri’s face. “Yuuri, please listen to me. None of this is your fault. James always has  _ everything _ planned out. If he didn’t get me then, he would have another time.” 

Yuuri opened his eyes to see Victor, who was looking at him sadly. “But--”

Victor shook his head again. “Being at the banquet, with you, was the best night of my life. James is the one that ruined it, not you.” 

_ The best night of his life? _ Even though he’d seen the pictures, it was hard to believe Victor had enjoyed himself  _ that  _ much. “I was a drunken idiot.” 

“You were charming.” Victor made a face. “But yes, very drunk.” 

“I have to tell you,” Yuuri started, “I don’t remember anything about the banquet. Whether it was from the alcohol or when James knocked me out, I’m not sure, but it’s all blank.”

Victor looked disappointed. “Oh.” 

“Sorry.” 

Victor shrugged, then looked hopeful. “I could...tell you about it? It would be nice to talk to someone that’s real and...not James.” 

“Ok,” Yuuri agreed. “Tell me about it. In exchange, I could tell you how Makkachin is doing?”

Victor gasped. “You know Makkachin? Is she alright?” 

Yuuri nodded. “I’ve actually been taking care of her for a while. Yakov asked me to.” He smiled sadly. “She misses you.” 

Victor listened intently to every detail about his beloved poodle. He asked questions, and teared up when Yuuri described how depressed she’d been when he first arrived. He also asked a few questions about his coach and his friends, but he seemed uncomfortable hearing too much about what was happening in the outside world. He asked questions about the skating season too, and Yuuri shyly told Victor about his successes at 4CC and Worlds, along with his time in Russia and his friendship with Yuri. As promised, Victor told Yuuri about the banquet, his eyes sparkling the entire time. They kept talking, until sleep was the only option for escaping the painful clenching of their empty stomachs.

With limited options for entertainment, talking and asking each other questions became their favorite activity. They got to know each other through variations of “20 Questions”, and heartfelt confessions. Victor just seemed relieved to have someone real to talk to, although Yuuri still caught him having phantom conversations and pacing. By the time their food stash ran out and the water bucket held only a few more mouthfuls, it felt like Yuuri knew Victor better than he’d ever known anyone else. The combination of conversation and lack of privacy quickly snuffed out any boundaries Yuuri had put up. Victor, however, had no such boundaries to begin with. He had no problem getting in Yuuri’s space. In fact, he seemed to want to be in Yuuri’s space as much as possible. He’d slowly pushed their cots closer together until their legs bumped each other if they stretched out too much. It had been a bit of an adjustment for Yuuri, who normally had a pretty large bubble, but he quickly found himself feeling comforted by Victor’s presence and touches. With just the two of them down there, Yuuri knew they had to rely on each other. 

“You know,” Yuuri said one day, as he and Victor tossed a crumpled piece of paper back and forth. “Before the banquet, before  _ this _ , I didn’t think you knew who I was,” he admitted. It was a thought that had been nagging him for a while.

Victor gave him a questioning look. “What do you mean? When didn’t I know who you were?” 

“Ever,” Yuuri continued. He caught the roll of paper, then paused their game. “You...you mistook me for a fan.” 

“When?”

“After the GPF. You asked if I wanted a photo.” 

A look of comprehension crossed Victor’s face. “Oh, is that why you walked away?” Victor smiled apologetically. “Sorry. I’m bad at comforting people. You looked so miserable, I just wanted to help you feel better.”

“What? Really?”

Victor nodded. “Yeah. Of course I knew who you were. There were only 6 of us.” 

“I…” Yuuri was speechless. “You knew who I was,” he repeated dumbly.

“Of course. I’d been watching you all season. I knew you’d be a contender,” Victor explained.

Yuuri shook his head in disbelief. “I...wow.” 

“Is that so surprising? I’m not that empty headed, you know.” Victor seemed a little irritated at the implication.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Yuuri clarified. He hesitated, but decided to be honest with Victor. It wasn’t like he had anyone else to talk to. “I’ve looked up to you for a long time. You’re the reason I started skating.” 

Victor looked surprised, then genuinely pleased. “Well, I’m glad I had such a positive influence on you. Did you have posters of me?” Victor teased. 

Yuuri rolled his eyes, and chucked the paper ball at him. Considering how weak he’d gotten, and that he was using his non-dominant hand, the throw wasn’t particularly impressive, but it got his point across. He was not going to admit that Victor was absolutely right. 

“Aw, I can just picture little chubby cheeked Yuuri, looking up to me.” Victor laughed, but was immediately overtaken by a coughing fit. Yuuri stood up to help him, but Victor held a hand out. “I’m alright,” he wheezed. “My throat is just dry.”

Just like that, the lightheartedness of the moment was broken. They were both reminded where they were, and what was happening to them. Awkwardly, Victor retrieved the paper ball, and tossed it back toward Yuuri. It landed in front of Yuuri’s cot, rolling toward his feet. Yuuri reached down to pick it up, sighing heavily. Even the motion of bending over made him feel dizzy. As much as Yuuri really didn’t feel like continuing their game, it was better than sitting there doing nothing, so Yuuri tossed the paper back toward Victor, and let time continue to pass them by. 

It was unclear how long he’d been down there, or how long it had been since the incident with James. Their captor checked in often, peeking in through the slat, but he never opened the door, or even spoke to them. Yuuri made sure to yell his favorite curse words and insults in every language he knew every time the slat opened, but the past few times he’d started to lose steam. Who knew yelling was so hard when you were starving and dehydrated? 

After their food shelf was long empty and the bucket was bone dry, when James opened the slot, Yuuri barely mustered a glare. He had no energy left for yelling or fighting. Plus, they’d been only eating small meals previously, so Yuuri was definitely feeling the effects of their lack of nourishment. Yuuri could feel his clothes sitting looser on his body than when he’d arrived, and his muscles were starting to waste away.

Victor looked miserable. He was already so thin and frail, it seemed impossible for him to get any worse, but he did. He didn’t seem to have the energy to get up from his cot, and Yuuri had to help him a few times. 

“Yuuri?” Victor asked weakly, his voice hoarse.

Yuuri rolled over so he was facing Victor. He’d started off trying to read a book, but gave up quickly when he struggled to focus on the words and ended up just staring blankly at the wall. “Yeah?”

Victor’s eyes were sunken and his lips were dry and cracked. Yuuri was sure he probably looked about the same. “Will you hold me? I don’t want to be alone if I…”

Yuuri’s heart sank. He did as Victor asked, scooting closer so he was lying partially on Victor’s cot. It wasn’t particularly comfortable, but he didn’t care. He gathered Victor in his arms, holding him as tightly as his weakened muscles would allow. “Don’t think like that.” 

“Just promise me that if you ever get out of here you’ll take care of Makka. I need to know she’ll be alright.” Victor murmured, his face buried in Yuuri’s chest.

_ I don’t think I’ll ever get out of here _ , Yuuri thought. “Of course,” he replied, grasping at Victor’s shirt. “But it won’t come to that.” 

Victor whimpered, shifting closer to Yuuri. 

This was all his fault. If he hadn’t pissed off James, this wouldn’t be happening. Yuuri looked down at the broken, shivering man in his arms and made up his mind; he could never do this to Victor again. If he had to submit, he would. He just hoped it wasn’t too late.

Yuuri swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. I messed up.” He didn’t give Victor a chance to respond. “I won’t try to escape again. I’ll apologize to James.” 

Victor tightened his grip. “You promise?” 

“I promise.”

“Thank you,” Victor whispered, relaxing into Yuuri’s embrace. 

Despite the warmth of Victor in his arms and the rhythmic sounds of the other man’s breathing, Yuuri didn’t sleep. He was terrified that if he closed his eyes, Victor wouldn’t be there any more when he opened them. 

When the slat screeched open sometime during their rest, Yuuri shot up as fast as his weakened body could, turning the light on. Victor didn’t stir, which made a bolt of fear rush through Yuuri. He breathed a sigh of relief when he caught sight of Victor’s chest rising and falling. 

The slat started to close, prompting Yuuri to yell, “Wait!” His mouth and throat were dry, and his voice was raspy, but the request was clear. 

The slat stopped moving, and a pair of green eyes shot over to Yuuri, making him shudder. James didn’t speak, but his eyes narrowed. 

Yuuri gulped down his nerves, and his pride. “I’m sorry.” He hated saying it, but he knew he had to. For both his and Victor’s sake. 

“For…?” James prompted. 

God, he was really going to milk this, wasn’t he? Yuuri took a shaky breath. “I’m sorry for acting out.” He gestured to Victor. “Please. I don’t think he’s going to last much longer.” 

“You should have thought about that before you acted so disrespectful,” James countered, sounding remarkably calm. How could he be so nonchalant about their suffering? 

Yuuri started to tear up. “I...I wasn’t thinking. I was being selfish. Please.” He dropped to his knees, all of his dignity forgotten. “I’m sorry!”

James regarded him silently, considering. “Will you be good?” 

“Yes,” Yuuri insisted. “I’ll be good. I promise.” He glanced back at Victor. “Please just...no more.” 

There was a long pause, where Yuuri held his breath, and then finally, “Alright.” 

Yuuri wanted to sob in relief, but he knew they weren’t out of the woods yet. The fact that Victor wasn’t responding at all was making Yuuri nervous. He wasn’t sure what to expect, or when they’d get their first meal, until three knocks sounded on the door a few minutes later. That seemed to rouse Victor. He weakly lifted his head, staring miserably at the door. Yuuri was halfway to the spot on the wall that Victor had shown him when he realized that Victor wouldn’t make it on his own. He turned back to the cot, glancing nervously at the door. James was just watching them, not saying anything. 

“Come on, Victor. We need to go to the wall.” Yuuri put an arm around Victor’s waist, attempting to heave him up. Almost all of Victor’s weight dropped onto him as the older man rose to his feet, and Yuuri barely managed to keep them from toppling over. Victor was unsteady, but with Yuuri’s help he managed to stumble to the wall. Yuuri put him in place, then shuffled over a few steps to get in position. Victor was swaying slightly, looking like he was having a hard time staying upright. 

Despite Victor’s instability on his feet, James seemed satisfied with their obedience and opened the door. Yuuri turned his head ever so slightly to look, and immediately regretted it. James was staring at him, holding the knife in one hand and hovering in the doorway like he was considering if he should take Yuuri seriously. Yuuri’s head snapped back around, his heart racing.

“If you’re sincere,” James started suddenly, “I’ll take care of you. If you’re lying to me, things will get much worse than this,” he threatened. “Do you understand, Yuuri?”

“I understand.” Yuuri responded, tears in his eyes. He was resigning himself to this, to a life of fear and obedience. It was painful to do so, but when he glanced at Victor out of the corner of his eye, he knew it was the right choice. He couldn’t do this to Victor. They might not have known each other very long, but he’d already grown to care for Victor as more than just his idol. It hurt far more to see Victor suffering than it did to give up. 

There was more silence, followed by the sound of sloshing water. It took all of Yuuri’s willpower not to turn and run toward the source to quench his thirst. James shuffled around for a few minutes, before finally leaving without a word, the heavy door clicking shut behind him.

When Yuuri turned around, he was practically weeping. There were small plates of food on both of their cots, and the bucket in the middle of the room had been filled. James had also taken their garbage, and left a few clean clothes and towels. Yuuri started to rush toward the water bucket, when he realized that Victor hadn’t moved. The man was leaning forward against the wall, his eyes closed. Yuuri hurried over to him, gently touching his shoulder. Victor startled, like he hadn’t realized Yuuri was there. His eyes shot open, flicking over to Yuuri questioningly. 

Yuuri smiled softly. “There’s food and water.” 

Victor gasped, glancing over Yuuri’s shoulder. “Can you help me?” 

“Of course.” Yuuri once again supported Victor’s weight, guiding him toward the water bucket. Victor’s legs buckled, but Yuuri was able to help him lower slowly to the ground. He started drinking straight from the bucket, not even bothering to cup his hands. Yuuri waited his turn, shifting around impatiently as he watched Victor drink. 

Victor stopped suddenly, looking guilty. “Sorry. Go ahead.” He shifted so Yuuri could reach in. 

Yuuri eagerly scooped water in his hands, drinking so fast he thought he’d be sick. Both of them gulped down water, but neither of them drank quite enough to completely rehydrate themselves. They were both too afraid that they wouldn’t get water again and wanted to conserve it. 

Regardless, the cool liquid soothed Yuuri’s throat, and he was ready for his meal. Yuuri helped Victor back to his cot, where a sandwich waited for each of them. They both devoured the meal, barely remembering to leave a few bites for later. 

Once Yuuri had cleaned up their plates, Victor turned to him and said, “Thank you. I know you didn’t want to give in, but I’m glad you did.”

Yuuri hated to admit it, but he was glad too. He never wanted to have to go without food or water again, and he never wanted to see Victor suffer like that. It was hard to accept, but Yuuri was realizing that this was his new life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: psychological trauma, blood, major character injury/illness, panic attacks


	8. Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri and Victor settle in to the harsh reality of their new lives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See bottom for CW
> 
> Sorry I'm a day late, life got in the way of updating yesterday but final chapter (of part 1) will be next Friday!!!

Strangely enough, Yuuri and Victor fell into a routine together. Yuuri never thought he’d be able to say that living in a creepy basement as a prisoner could ever be routine, but he found himself getting used to it. Three knocks, and food was delivered. Three knocks, and they got their ration of water. Three knocks, and sometimes, if they’d been good, a treat or a book was shoved through the slat in the door. 

Victor still looked relieved every time food was delivered, and Yuuri found himself feeling the same. Even if it was a plain turkey sandwich with slightly sour smelling meat, or yet another can of baked beans, it was still food. Sometimes, Yuuri thought about his mother’s cooking, and how pleasantly full he’d be after she served dinner. He couldn’t remember what it felt like to feel satiated by a meal. James gave them enough not to starve, but it wasn’t enough to fill their stomachs. Yuuri figured it was purposeful. Keep them weak and hungry, and they wouldn’t be able to fight back. Deprive them of food, and it would remind them who was in charge. Yuuri wouldn’t be forgetting any time soon. He’d learned his lesson, and he’d learned it the hard way: there was no way out. At least Victor had recovered, as much as he could, and no longer looked quite so sickly. He was moving around just as well as when Yuuri arrived. 

With that realization, his goal switched from escape to survival. He followed the routine James established for them, no longer scowling or swearing at their captor. Instead, he just averted his eyes, like Victor did, and answered politely when he was spoken to. It was all very routine, and Yuuri didn’t expect any deviation. That’s why, when James dropped off their water and told Yuuri he’d be back for him in a few minutes, Yuuri was both nervous and confused. 

Victor seemed to notice his fear. As soon as James shut the door, he turned to Yuuri and said, “Don’t worry, it’s something good.” 

Yuuri looked at him curiously. “I don’t understand. What’s happening?”

“He’s taking you upstairs,” Victor explained. 

“Me? Why?”

“I guess he’s decided you’ve been good.” Victor made a strange face. “Plus, he probably wants to take you out to the rink. He likes watching us skate. That is why he took us.” 

Yuuri laughed dryly. “I don’t know why anyone would want to see my skating.” 

Victor raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you tell me you won gold at Worlds?”

“Yeah but only because you weren’t there,” Yuuri insisted. 

Victor was about to respond, when the familiar three knocks rapped on the steel door. Without another word, Victor and Yuuri returned to their usual positions. Yuuri could hear the slat opening, protesting as it dragged across metal. Apparently feeling satisfied that his captives were complying, the locks started clicking as James unlocked the door. Yuuri held his breath. From what Victor told him, he wasn’t in trouble. In fact, it seemed to be the opposite. He  _ had _ been behaving, hadn’t he? Yuuri was alarmed by the brief flash of pride he felt. He shouldn’t be happy about pleasing this man.

And yet, if he wasn’t misbehaving, he wasn’t hurt. He was even  _ rewarded _ . Yuuri had been incredibly envious of the nights Victor was taken upstairs to sleep in a real bed, to eat a real meal. He even got to shower, probably with hot water. Victor tried not to talk about it too much, to spare Yuuri the details of what he was missing, but he never missed the look of contentment of Victor’s face after he was brought back down, though it always faded as soon as the steel door closed. Victor had learned to play their captor’s game, and Yuuri was realizing it was time he got on board. After all, they would be very likely spending the rest of their lives down here, so he might as well try and find some peace. 

The clicking of the locks stopped, and the steel door swung open with its usual creak. “Come, Yuuri,” James commanded, and Yuuri complied. 

Yuuri glanced at Victor, who offered him a small smile. He returned the gesture, trying not to think about how if he got this opportunity earlier in his captivity, he would have used it as a chance to escape. The brief thought almost sent him into a panic. He knew there was no way out, James had made sure he learned that lesson. He and Victor had both paid the price for Yuuri’s insolence, and he was not willing to put them in that position again. The thought of Victor’s sunken eyes and the painful clenching of his stomach from their food deprivation was still too fresh. 

It was best not to keep James waiting, so Yuuri did as he was told and turned away from the wall, slowly approaching their captor with his head down. James was holding his usual knife, still as shiny and polished as ever. Yuuri shuddered as he remembered the feeling of the cold steel on his skin. James seemed to know what he was thinking about, because he smirked and twisted the handle in his grasp. The small gesture made Yuuri’s heart race. He had to remind himself that as long as he behaved, he wouldn’t have to feel that cold steel again. 

“Good,” James commented as Yuuri stopped a few feet in front of him. “Turn around.” 

Yuuri did as he was told without hesitation. Hesitation was never welcome here. Yuuri flinched as he felt rough hands on his arms. They squeezed, not painfully, but in a reminder of their power. Yuuri had no desire to test that power, so he held still. He breathed heavily as James held onto him, flinching again as he felt the burn of rope against his skin. James tightened the rope, tying Yuuri’s wrists together in a tight knot. Yuuri didn’t bother to try fighting him. He didn’t have any fight left. 

James tested the rope, then made a satisfied sound. “Is it too tight?” 

Yuuri barely suppressed a yelp at the sound of the man’s voice so close to his ear. He knew he was shaking, but he took a deep breath and forced himself to speak. “N-no.” 

“Good. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

If he was a more foolish man, Yuuri would have laughed at that statement. Hadn’t James done nothing but hurt him since he arrived? Rope burn seemed like nothing compared to what the man had put him and Victor through. Fortunately, Yuuri wasn’t a foolish man, so he kept his mouth shut. 

At least he did, until a hand squeezed at his arm painfully, nails digging into his skin. “You should thank me for being so thoughtful. I don’t have to be this nice, you know,” James said dangerously. 

Yuuri whimpered, seeing Victor flinch in front of him. Victor hadn’t moved from his spot, he knew better. He was still facing the wall, but Yuuri could see him trembling slightly. “Thank you,” Yuuri replied quietly, his voice quivering. 

James seemed to be satisfied, because he stopped squeezing Yuuri, and started caressing the spot he had injured. The soothing gesture was worse than the painful one. It made Yuuri want to vomit, knowing what a lie it was. He managed to keep it together, following James obediently as he was led out of the room. James stopped them outside the door and ordered Yuuri to wait while he re-locked the room. Once again, Yuuri couldn’t help but think about how he once might have tried to use this opportunity to escape. James had his back to him. His hands might be tied behind his back, but Victor’s weren’t. If he could knock James off balance and distract him, Victor could…

_ No. _

Yuuri shook his head, his whole body trembling. There was no way out, he knew that. He had already decided he wouldn’t try and escape anymore. He had promised Victor he wouldn’t let them get hurt again. 

James finished with the locks, looking them over one more time to ensure they were secure. He was always so thorough. It was another reason Yuuri knew he couldn’t escape. James was always one step ahead of them. With a quick nod of satisfaction, James turned back to Yuuri. Yuuri tried very hard not to shrink away under his captor’s gaze, but he couldn’t help it. Yuuri expected James to smirk or laugh, but to his surprise, the man smiled gently at him, extending a hand to caress his cheek. Yuuri barely kept himself from recoiling in disgust and terror.  _ That _ would be a very bad idea. 

“In time, you won’t be so afraid. I think you’ll find that I can be quite amenable, as long as you behave,” James assured him, rubbing his thumb on Yuuri’s cheek tenderly. Yuuri swallowed hard against the bile in his throat. “I don’t actually like hurting you, either of you. So don’t make me do it, and we’ll get along just fine. I’m sure Victor’s told you about his privileges. You can have them too if you keep up this good behavior.” James pulled his hand away, and Yuuri managed not to sigh in relief. 

James gently took hold of Yuuri’s arm, guiding him away from his prison. Yuuri was so focused on James that he hadn’t even thought about how this was his first time out of that room in...months? He didn’t even know how long it had been. He glanced around curiously, but only with his eyes. He had a feeling James wouldn’t like it if he got too curious about his surroundings. 

The room they were in was unimpressive. It was dark and dusty, just an overstocked storage space. There were boxes and bags stacked everywhere, exercise equipment from the 90’s, a broken pool table, and various other knick knacks that were either too broken or too covered in dust to identify. Yuuri thought it was strange for a person who seemed as organized as James to have such a messy space, until he thought about the placement of their prison. If someone opened the door to this room, they’d see a mess of cobwebs and junk. The steel door with all of its locks would be well hidden. So even if someone did come for them, they probably wouldn’t even find the room where they were being kept. 

Yuuri’s breath caught as he stumbled over a few loose items, afraid of setting off his captor. However, James just smiled warmly at him and guided him around the mess. As soon as James turned away, Yuuri shuddered. He  _ hated _ seeing any kind of affection directed at him from this man. Was this what he was going to have to deal with now? Yuuri would have to be careful about hiding his reactions. 

After carefully guiding Yuuri around another set of obstacles, where Yuuri ended up so close to James he had to hold his breath to avoid breathing in the man’s scent, they made it to a door on the opposite side of the room. James opened it, and pulled Yuuri through. They were now standing in an unfinished basement, which housed some cleaning supplies, a washer and dryer, and a set of couches surrounding a television. Yuuri wondered if James sat down here and watched television, if he entertained guests while Yuuri and Victor suffered just a few rooms over. The thought sickened him, but he continued to keep his mask on. He was still shaking, but he had been since James had tied him up, and the man didn’t seem too concerned about it. 

They passed a few more piles of stored junk, and a unit of shelving that housed various non-perishable items. There was enough food down here to last months, varying from canned vegetables to boxed meals. Yuuri couldn’t read the Russian labels on any of them, but some of the pictures looked familiar; this was where their meals came from. 

James didn’t linger, continuing to guide Yuuri toward a white staircase at the other end of the basement. Yuuri took a tentative step, James following one step behind, never taking his hand off of Yuuri’s bound arms. Once they reached the top, James leaned past Yuuri to grab the door, once again prompting Yuuri to hold his breath to avoid breathing in James’s scent. He hated having their captor that close, his hot breath prickling Yuuri’s skin in the worst way. 

The door swung open, light streaming into the staircase. Yuuri yelped as the light washed over him, squeezing his eyes shut. The tiny, frosted windows in the basement didn’t exactly let in a lot of light, and the one bulb could barely illuminate their space, so this amount of natural light felt overwhelming. James waited patiently while Yuuri adjusted, murmuring soothing words and patting his arms gently. It made Yuuri’s skin crawl. 

Yuuri tentatively peeked one eye open, blinking and squinting. He slowly worked up to opening his other eye, then continued to blink and adjust until he could see normally. When James realized Yuuri seemed to be ready to move, he guided Yuuri up the last couple of steps, then turned him sharply into a lavishly-decorated hallway. He pushed the door closed behind him, twisting the simple lock on the doorknob. 

The hallway was small, but there was abstract art framed on the walls and expensive looking rugs covering the wood floor. It had been so long since Yuuri had seen anywhere new, so he was practically vibrating with anticipation. They reached a large, open kitchen, and James sat him down at a square table in a breakfast nook. There was more art, and when Yuuri glanced around, he saw expensive looking sculptures too. Victor did say that James liked to collect “beautiful things”. 

James started humming, gliding over to the fridge like he was having the best day of his life. “What would you like to eat, Yuuri?”

Yuuri was caught off guard by his question. “What?” 

James turned to face him, a mixture of amusement and annoyance written on his features. “I asked what you wanted to eat.” 

“Oh...anything is fine,” Yuuri said nervously. “Thank you!” he added quickly, remembering James’s earlier reaction to his lack of politeness.

James seemed to approve of his wording, because he smiled and said, “I wish I could make you katsudon. That’s your favorite food, isn’t it?”

Normally, the thought of katsudon would make his stomach growl, but hearing James talk about it just made his mouth feel dry. “It is,” Yuuri confirmed. 

“It’s hard to find authentic ingredients here,” James explained. “The nearest store isn’t near at all, and it’s limited. Perhaps you could give me some alternatives, and we could make it together?” he suggested. 

Yuuri hated the thought of sharing his favorite recipe with this man, but he knew better than to argue. “I can try, I’m not familiar with Russian ingredients.” He didn’t even know if they were still in Russia, but hoped his vague answer would be enough to discourage James from trying to make Yuuri cook with him. 

James nodded. “Understandable.” He didn’t say anything else about katsudon, digging through his fridge for something. “Did you ever eat grilled cheese sandwiches while you were in America?” 

“Yes,” Yuuri confirmed. 

“With Phichit?” 

Yuuri’s stomach twisted uncomfortably hearing James talk about Phichit. “Yes,” Yuuri said again. 

“The staple of any college diet, right? Along with ramen noodles,” he said cheerfully, laughing like he and Yuuri were sharing some kind of inside joke. 

Yuuri forced out a huff of laughter. He supposed he should be thankful that James was talking to him and having a normal conversation. He could almost fool himself into thinking they were just meeting to talk about his sponsorship, were it not for the fact that there were ropes rubbing against his wrists. He didn’t like hearing James speak so casually, but it was better than the alternative, so Yuuri pasted on a small smile and let James ramble on about his favorite kind of cheese. 

“I had to get my favorite smoked gouda imported. It’s all the way from Amsterdam, I hope you like it!” James chirped as he sliced a couple of pieces, setting them on top of a slice of well-buttered rye bread. 

“I’m sure I will,” Yuuri said with forced enthusiasm. 

James started humming a song, and Yuuri recognized it as his free skate from the past season. He placed the bread on a hot skillet, the butter sizzling as he set it down. While James was busy cooking, Yuuri chanced a quick look around. It was a very modern, recently updated kitchen. The appliances were shiny and devoid of any stains or crumbs. A large set of windows were letting the natural light flow in and illuminating the space in a warm glow. There was snow on the ground outside, and Yuuri could see what he assumed was the “ice rink” in a rectangular patch cleared of all snow. Yuuri’s sense of time was completely skewed; had he only been here for weeks, or had he been here long enough for the seasons to turn back into winter? Their prison stayed at a constant temperature, and the windows were too blurry and too high to see what was going on outside. It seemed like it had been longer than just a few weeks, because Yuuri’s injury had faded into a bright scar, but it seemed impossible that he’d been long enough for the seasons to change. 

Yuuri’s stomach grumbled as the smell of butter and cheese filled the air, and Yuuri couldn’t help but feel betrayed by his own body. James didn’t seem to hear it, still humming as he cooked. He’d moved on from Yuuri’s free skate to his short program. Yuuri watched him scoop two sandwiches onto two separate plates with a rubber spatula. Then, he carried the plates over, setting one in front of Yuuri, and the other in an empty spot across from him. 

“Enjoy!” James said enthusiastically, reaching for his sandwich. 

Was Yuuri supposed to eat without his hands? Did James want to see him eating like a dog? Yuuri was starting to panic, wondering what the man had planned for him. Maybe this was all part of some kind of test, and Yuuri was failing. He stared at the sandwich, eyes wide and breathing heavily. 

James was about to take a bite, when he noticed Yuuri’s predicament. “Oh!” he exclaimed, startling Yuuri. “I forgot.” He stood up, walking around the table. Yuuri flinched again as James touched him, his body starting to shake more violently. “Here,” James said as he worked the knots out of the rope. Yuuri felt the rope fall away, and he resisted the urge to jerk his hands away as James rubbed the spots on his wrist where they’d been sitting. 

He stepped away from Yuuri, walking back to his seat and sitting down. James smiled, but it was far less friendly than his earlier expressions. He reached down and grabbed his knife, which had been sheathed at his side for easy access, then set it on the table next to his butter knife. “Don’t get any ideas,” he said dangerously. 

Yuuri nodded, his eyes glued to the knife. The wound was long healed, but the scar practically itched as he looked at the weapon. James seemed satisfied that Yuuri wasn’t going to bolt, so he started eating his sandwich again, gesturing for Yuuri to do the same.

Yuuri picked up the sandwich, the cheese dripping out the sides. It did look delicious, but it was far richer than anything he’d eaten since he got here. He was almost afraid to take a bite, worried that his stomach might protest. But James was looking at him expectantly, and a stomachache sounded better than being carved up with the knife glinting in the sun’s light, so Yuuri took a big bite of the sandwich. It was quite good, the buttery flavor melting on his tongue. Before he had time to think about it, Yuuri was devouring the sandwich, practically shoving it into his mouth. It tasted  _ so good _ after so many meals of bland canned food and borderline sketchy lunch meat. 

James chuckled. “I guess that means you liked it.” 

“Yes. Thank you.” Yuuri answered, licking melted cheese off his fingers. 

“I’m glad,” James replied, sounding genuine.

After all this time, Yuuri couldn’t figure James out. Sometimes, he sounded like he genuinely cared about Yuuri and Victor. Victor had even expressed having fun with him a few times during his privileged nights out of their prison. Yuuri had been horrified about what “fun” meant, until Victor explained they’d played board games and watched a movie. Yuuri remembered enjoying James’s presence back when he’d been nothing but a sponsor’s assistant to him. They’d laughed together, enjoying comical stories about James’s boss. Yuuri had even considered him a friend.

And then there was the man that imprisoned them, the man that starved them, hurt them, and deprived them of basic human dignity. How could the same man that had managed to charm Yuuri also be so cruel? Which side of him was real? 

“You look like you’re thinking very hard,” James commented, making Yuuri jump.

“N-not really.” 

James smiled again, that same dark and dangerous smile. “I don’t like being lied to,” he said flatly. 

Yuuri swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. I’m just a little overwhelmed.” It wasn’t quite the truth, but it wasn’t quite a lie either.

James’s smile softened. “Oh, of course. This must be a lot for you to take in.” He reached over and grabbed Yuuri’s empty plate, and Yuuri shrunk back at the proximity. “I think I know what will make you feel better, though.” He stood up with both of their dishes, grabbing the knife and looking pointedly at Yuuri. 

It was really an unnecessary gesture, Yuuri wasn’t going anywhere. He’d learned his lesson, and he was too terrified of the man in front of him to try anything. Plus, he was no longer a muscular athlete in peak shape as when he’d first been taken. Yuuri hadn’t seen a mirror in ages, but he could see his protruding hip bones every time he washed himself. He felt the lack of energy, and even the walk up the stairs had left him a little winded. 

Once the dishes were in the sink, James gestured for Yuuri to come to him. Yuuri obeyed, rising from his seat as soon as he was summoned. “You’re going to walk in front of me, I’ll tell you where to go.” 

“Ok,” Yuuri replied, indicating he understood. It made sense, with how cautious James was. Even if Yuuri was complying, having Yuuri walk behind him could give him an advantage if he tried to make a break for it. 

“Walk back in the direction we came until you reach another staircase. Go up those stairs.” 

Yuuri nodded in understanding, then did as he was told. He could hear James’s steps behind him, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He didn’t like the feeling of his captor behind him, not knowing what he was doing, but he gritted his teeth and kept walking. They reached the stairs, and Yuuri ascended, hating the way his legs quivered as they reached the top. 

“First door on your right.”

Yuuri nodded again, then kept walking until he reached their destination. He stopped, looking back at James in confusion. It was a bathroom.

“I thought you might like a hot shower,” James explained. 

Yuuri gasped. That sounded  _ heavenly _ . James chuckled at his response, then gently nudged him forward. 

“Take as long as you want. Make sure you dry your hair when you’re done, I don’t want you freezing when we go outside.” He pointed past Yuuri to a rack of fluffy green towels. “Those are clean, as are the clothes on the counter. Call out when you're done.” 

“Thank you,” Yuuri replied, almost feeling genuine, until he remembered why he didn’t have access to a shower in the first place. 

“You’re welcome!” James said happily, before the corners of his lips twitched. “I’m going to be right across the hall. Understand?” 

Yuuri understood;  _ Don’t try anything _ . He nodded. “Yes.” 

“Good.” With that, James pulled the door closed and left Yuuri alone. 

Yuuri stared after him, not quite sure what to do with himself. Part of him was aching for Victor, the older man having been a constant presence for him. The other part of him wanted to cry at the sight of a real toilet, and a real shower. It was pathetic, how he almost wept at the sight. He stripped out of his clothes, which he only now realized were disgusting, and full of holes. Had he really been wearing this same shirt over and over? He held it up, wrinkling his nose at the smell and the crustiness. Well, it wasn’t like he’d had a choice. James hadn’t brought him anything new in a while. Victor shared some of his new clothes from his trips upstairs, but taking them made Yuuri feel guilty.

Once the water was on, and heating to a comfortable temperature, Yuuri glanced around the bathroom. It was as tastefully decorated as the rest of the house. The same kind of art was hung on the walls, and the marble sink was scrubbed clean. As Yuuri was looking around at his surroundings, he caught sight of his reflection. He almost shrieked, not recognizing himself for a second. Yuuri frowned, looking at the person in the mirror that was supposed to be him. The person wore his expression and his glasses, but didn’t look like he remembered himself. His hair was longer, but dull, like Victor’s. He had dark circles under his eyes and hollowed cheeks. His skin was pale, dirty, and a bright scar decorated his neck. What struck Yuuri most was how many of his bones were visible. He knew his hip bones were more prominent, but he was surprised to see how many of his ribs he could count. Yuuri reached up to touch his face, as if making sure what he was seeing was real. The person in the mirror did the same, and Yuuri winced at the lack of range of motion in his formerly broken fingers.

Yuuri turned away from the mirror, not wanting to see any more of the hollow person he’d become. He stuck his hand into the stream of water to check the temperature, almost moaning at how good the heat felt against his skin. He set his glasses on the counter then stepped in, sighing as the hot water pounded into his back. Yuuri closed his eyes, feeling some semblance of peace for the first time since he’d been brought here. He sat under the stream until it felt like his skin was going to peel off, then he reached for a bottle of soap. He could see the dirt and grime running down the drain with the water. Some of it must be from his hair, too, because when he started scrubbing shampoo into his hair, more grime dribbled down. 

James had told him to take as long as he wanted, but he shuddered at the thought of keeping the man waiting. He’d been under the water so long his skin was starting to prune, so Yuuri decided he’d better get out. He didn’t want to test how long James’s patience would last. 

Yuuri reluctantly turned the water off, grabbing a towel off the rack as he stepped out. He dried off, sighing happily at the feel of the soft fluff against his skin. It was so much better than the rags they had downstairs for cleaning themselves. He could understand why Victor was so willing to cooperate, if he was able to get reprieves like this. 

As James said, there was a pile of clean clothes folded neatly next to the sink. Yuuri picked up the clothing, studying each piece. He felt a little uncomfortable at the thought of wearing underwear that was picked out for him by James, but the thought of going commando sounded even worse so he put them on without a fuss. He slipped on the dark athletic pants and shirt, then the wool socks. There was a sweater too, which he pulled over his head, sighing contentedly at the feeling of clean clothes on his body for the first time in ages. 

Yuuri remembered James telling him to dry his hair, so he searched the bathroom for a hair dryer, finding it under the sink. His hair was longer now, curling over his ears and down his neck, but it still dried fairly quickly. When he was done, Yuuri looked at himself in the mirror. He looked less sickly, but Yuuri felt like the reflection still didn’t look much like himself. This was the only time in his life he could remember not having a stubborn chubbiness to his cheeks. Even at the peak of the skating season, he could never quite sharpen up his cheekbones like Victor. Yet, when he looked at the person in the mirror, there was no extra padding anywhere on his body.

With a sigh, Yuuri turned away from the mirror. He knew he was starting to border on borrowed time, and he didn’t want to keep James waiting. He stepped toward the door, his hand hovering over the doorknob. James hadn’t specified if he could open the door or not, so Yuuri decided to play it safe. “I’m done,” he called.

There wasn’t a response, but a few moments later, the doorknob jiggled, and then the door swung open. Yuuri stepped back to avoid being smacked in the face. James was grinning at him, looking him up and down. “You look very refreshed,” he commented. 

“I am. Thank you,” he responded with forced politeness. 

“You’re welcome.” He ran his fingers through Yuuri’s freshly washed hair, sighing happily. Yuuri grimaced in response. “You see, if you just do as I say, if you behave, you can have privileges like this. You just have to earn them.”

Yuuri nodded, forcing himself not to pull away from James. “I understand.” He kept the bitterness out of his voice. If this was the way to survive, to be comfortable even, he would bear it. 

“Good. I’ve been wanting to bring you up here for a while, but I wanted to make sure you’d behave. I can’t tell you how glad I am that you decided to be good,” James said, sounding giddy. He pulled his hand out of Yuuri’s hair, patting him on the cheek. 

Yuuri flinched as James made contact with his skin. Even though it was a gentle tap, it reminded Yuuri too much of the pain he’d felt from those hands before. “Me too.” That sounded like a good response.

It was, apparently, because James looked delighted. “I know we can get along, even be friends. We worked together so well before.”

_ Before you abducted and tortured me?  _ Yuuri forced a smile. “We did.” 

“I know you don’t believe it now, but I think you’ll come to like it here. Victor settled in nicely, and you will too, in time,” James insisted. 

Yuuri just nodded in response, not trusting himself not to snap at his captor. 

James continued, “Did Victor tell you what we are going to do today?”

Yuuri nodded. “He said I’m going to skate.” 

“That’s right,” James confirmed. “Come with me. Walk in front again.” 

Yuuri did as he was told, letting James direct him through the house, until they reached a plain looking door. James stopped briefly to put on a pair of boots, directing Yuuri to do the same. While Yuuri was putting the boots on, and a pair of gloves and a hat that James handed to him, James grabbed supplies of his own. He dressed in a heavy jacket, piling on the layers. Then, he grabbed a very familiar looking bag. Yuuri recognized his gear bag right away. Apparently after he’d taken Yuuri, he’d gone back into Victor’s apartment. Yuuri shuddered at the thought of him coming into contact with Makkachin. He hoped James didn’t hurt her. 

James handed Yuuri a jacket as well, before reaching around Yuuri to unlock the door. He directed Yuuri over the threshold. Yuuri shivered as the bitter air hit him, grateful for the layers protecting him from the cold. James continued to guide him forward, though Yuuri stumbled a bit as his eyes adjusted to the blinding light. It was even worse reflecting off the snow and ice. They reached the makeshift rink, and James sat him down on a short wooden bench. He dropped Yuuri’s gear bag in front of him.

“Go ahead and get your skates on and warm up however you’d like. Be careful, it’s been a while since you’ve skated.” He held his hand open. “I’ll take your glasses.” 

_ And whose fault is that _ ? Yuuri thought bitterly, though he answered with a grateful nod and placed his glasses in the waiting hand. He did as he was told, putting his skates on and shivering when his feet were in between boot and skate and exposed to the air. Despite the circumstances, Yuuri felt a wave of calm rush over him as he laced up his skates, and that feeling only increased as he stepped onto the ice. It felt different; the ice was rough, and the wind whipped around him, but it was still ice. Yuuri gingerly took a few strides, testing his legs. His muscles protested, but he found himself quickly slipping back into comforting routines. He skated figures around the tiny rink, though they had to be cut to a small portion of their size due to the limited space. 

“I’m sorry it’s not as grand as what you’re used to. This was the only flat spot before the treeline that I could find,” James explained. 

Yuuri hummed in response, and James let him get away with not saying anything. He was too busy watching Yuuri, looking pleased, eager even. Yuuri closed his eyes, not liking the way James was eyeing him, like he was some kind of prize. It was a bad idea, because he wasn’t used to the roughness or size of the rink, and he stumbled onto his knees. The cold seeped into his athletic pants, making him shiver. He stood up quickly, brushing himself off and returning to his figures. 

“Show me your short program from last season,” James commanded. “You should downgrade your jumps so you don’t get hurt though.” 

Yuuri wanted to protest, but he knew what a terrible idea that was, so he skated to the center of the tiny rink and took up his starting position. He took a deep breath, letting the music start in his head. It was difficult on the small outdoor rink, and exhausting after an extended period of lack of activity. Yuuri fell often, and found himself struggling to keep up with the rhythm in his head. He did downgrade his jumps, but still struggled. Even doubles felt impossible for his weakened body. 

When Yuuri held his final pose, his whole body shaking violently from the effort, he was terrified of what kind of reaction James would have. It was a terrible performance, even for him, but there was no way he could have done any better. To Yuuri’s surprise, James clapped enthusiastically. Yuuri couldn’t quite read his expression without his glasses, but his body language didn’t look tense. 

“Wow, I can’t believe I get a private performance from you!” He sighed happily. “Amazing! Of course, you’ll need to practice more to build your muscles back up, but I know you can do it. You are famous for your stamina after all!” 

Despite knowing it was a bad idea, Yuuri frowned. “What?” 

“Oh, don’t worry about it. You’re still amazing, I know you’ll get back to your old self soon enough. Victor fell a lot his first time out here too,” he said with a shrug. “But if you keep behaving so well, you’ll be able to come out here all the time.” He hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe I could even have you and Victor skate together, wouldn’t that be something?”

Yuuri felt cold, and it had nothing to do with the howling wind. “You want me to skate with Victor?”

James nodded. “Yes, that would be an incredible sight. I know you look up to him, but don’t worry, you’ll do fine.”

Yuuri clenched his jaw. He’d spent enough time locked away with Victor that he no longer felt intimidated by the man. Victor had held him through panic attacks, helped bathe and feed him when he was too weak to move, and whispered soothing words in the night when sleep wouldn’t come. He wasn’t afraid of skating with Victor, he was furious that his dream of meeting his idol on the ice as an equal was going to be taken and twisted by this sick bastard. Yuuri had been working his whole life to skate on the same ice as Victor, and now James was just going to throw them together and make it mean nothing. 

James was oblivious to Yuuri’s building rage. “We could do it on your birthday,” he suggested. “Wouldn’t that be a wonderful present?”

Yuuri gaped at him. “My birthday?”

“It’s only two weeks away, so you won’t have to wait too long. I’m sure you’re excited to skate with your idol.” 

Yuuri didn’t respond, his mind trying to comprehend the fact that he had been here long enough for it to be his birthday. He wondered if Victor knew how long it had been. Yuuri didn’t want to ask, Victor always got uncomfortable when Yuuri brought up the passage of time in their prison. 

It was exactly as Yuuri feared; he had been here for  _ months _ . Somewhere around half a year. Half a year lost, taken by someone who claimed to admire him, to love him even. Yuuri started shaking. If the police had been sure that Victor was dead a month or two after his disappearance, there was no way anyone thought Yuuri was still alive. He wondered if the case was even open, or if James had dropped another body in the Neva. Yuuri still didn’t want to think about where that other one came from. What poor soul had been in the wrong place at the wrong time? 

What did his family think? Were they still holding out hope, or had they too given up? What about Yuri? Was he fighting as fiercely as he had been for Victor, or had Yakov finally convinced him to give it up? And poor Makka, losing her owner, and then Yuuri, who had grown to love her as much as he had Vicchan. He just hoped someone was taking good care of her. His mind flashed to the people he loved, to his family, to Phichit, and the Nishigoris, and Minako. He thought about the family he’d found at Victor’s home rink with Yuri, Mila, and Georgi, even Yakov and Lilia. What were they all thinking now that Yuuri had suffered the same fate as Victor? 

“...Yuuri? Yuuri!” 

Yuuri snapped out of his musings. James was staring at him with a frown on his face. Apparently he had zoned out for too long. “I’m sorry. I’m just nervous about skating with Victor,” he lied, surprised at how easy the lie slipped out.

James’s body relaxed. “Oh, I understand. But I promise, you’ll do amazing. You’re just as good of a skater as Victor, honestly.” He smiled reassuringly. “I think you might even be better than him, someday. I wish I had seen your potential sooner.” 

_ I don’t _ , Yuuri thought bitterly. 

James waved a hand dismissively. “We have time to plan later. For now, let me see your free skate!” 

Yuuri nodded numbly, handing his jacket to James before circling back to the center of the ice. After the exertion of his short program, he was glad to be rid of the thick coat. As he was about to take up his starting position, he hesitated. His earlier thoughts came rushing back to him, about how long he’d been here, about how his family and friends were probably missing him. It made him furious. This man had taken him away from everything, from the people he loved, from the sport that he loved, and for what? So he could perform whenever James wanted? And in return, Yuuri got access to things that he never should have been deprived of in the first place? How was that a fair exchange? 

The feelings of helplessness that had been growing over what Yuuri now knew was months became slowly replaced by a burning rage. Maybe no one was looking for them anymore, maybe everyone was convinced they were dead. Maybe, probably, Yuuri would die here, withering away as this cruel man’s prized possession. That thought had terrified him many times, making him bow his head in submission every time James came knocking. No more. Not again.

Yuuri knew he was about to do something stupid, and reckless, but he couldn’t stop himself. He wouldn’t sit back and let himself be turned into an obedient puppy, afraid of being hit with a rolled up newspaper. If he was going to die here, he was going to do it on  _ his  _ terms, not wasting away in a dark basement. 

He just hoped Victor wouldn’t suffer for what he was about to do. The thought of his friend was almost enough to stop Yuuri. He didn’t want to break his promise, he wanted to keep Victor safe, but he refused to be kept like a circus animal, locked in a cage and only let out to entertain a cruel master. The last thing Yuuri thought was,  _ I’m sorry Victor _ , before taking a deep breath and shifting positions. James made a questioning sound as Yuuri stepped into the starting position for Victor’s free skate.

Yuuri had skated  _ Stammi Vicino  _ dozens of times. It was his inspiration when he was still in Detroit, desperate to honor Victor’s memory. It was his tribute in front of the entire world, when he bared his heart during his exhibition skate. And now, it would be his swan song. 

The music played in his head, just as clearly as if it was being projected across a real rink. Yuuri heard James shouting a stream of protests, but he ignored them and skated on. He knew he wouldn’t be able to perform at the level he used to, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter how much he fell, because it wasn’t about proving anything to anyone, it was about telling James where to stick it. 

As Yuuri moved through the performance, he couldn’t help but think about Victor, and how his perception of the man had changed. He wished he could remember their dance in Sochi. He wished Victor had become his coach like Yuuri had apparently asked him to do. He wished he could know what they might have been to each other if circumstances had been different. Yuuri cared for Victor more than he could say, but it was impossible not to after they’d been forced together like this. Victor was a constant presence, a reassurance. He knew more about his idol’s life than he ever thought he could. He knew what Victor looked like when he cried, and how he shook during a nightmare. And though the occurrences had been rare, Yuuri knew how brightly his smile could shine through a dark room. It was painfully obvious that Victor was more than just his idol now, but Yuuri knew that he’d never know if Victor could be anything more. A friend, yes, but beyond that, it seemed that Yuuri would never find out. 

“What are you doing? That’s not what I asked for!” James snarled. “I want to see  _ your _ routine, not Victor’s!” 

Yuuri ignored him, channeling all his feelings into his skate. His muscles were burning, and so were his lungs, and he was falling on every jump and step, but he knew the emotions were there. His longing for his family, his longing for the future that he and Victor could never have.

“Stop that!” James demanded, taking a step toward the ice. 

Yuuri continued his dance, sending James a look that said,  _ make me _ . 

Deciding he’d had enough, James stalked out onto the ice, drawing the knife from his belt. Yuuri didn’t stop skating, waiting for James to get closer. He wasn’t really thinking about what he was doing, he just knew that he had to do it. James pulled the knife, and reached toward Yuuri. Once he was close enough, Yuuri abruptly stopped skating and kicked out as high and as hard as he could. James shrieked in surprise as the blade of Yuuri’s skate ripped through his jacket and pants. Yuuri could see blood already soaking through the cut on James’s pants, forming a crimson pool on the ice. James clutched his leg, howling in pain. A trickle of blood from his side followed moments later, and Yuuri grinned in triumph as he realized how deep he had sliced. 

James glared at him, his eyes burning. “You are going to regret that,” he promised, his voice dripping with malice. He swung the knife forward, and Yuuri stumbled back to get out of the way. His blade caught a divot in the ice, and he fell back onto the hard surface. 

James was on him in an instant, driving the blade downward. Yuuri grabbed his wrists with both hands and tried to stop him, but he didn’t have the strength. He cried out in pain as the blade pierced his skin, digging into his shoulder. He found himself wishing he’d kept the jacket on so he had more protection. 

Yuuri was able to maneuver his legs free, and kicked out again as James twisted the knife. James screamed as Yuuri’s skates sliced through him again. Yuuri kept kicking, trying to ignore the sickening sound of metal against flesh. Yuuri aimed high, and managed to catch James in the face. He rolled off of Yuuri, pulling the knife out and clutching at the wound as his face dripped blood at an alarming speed. Yuuri didn’t stop to watch as he scrambled to his feet and took off across the ice, skating at full speed. He could hear James yelling after him, but the man couldn’t keep up with him on foot, especially with the gushing wounds now littering his body. 

Yuuri stumbled again as he hit the edge of the rink, but managed to keep his balance. He had to keep going, he had to get away. It was hard work, running through the snow in his skates, but he didn’t have time to stop and take them off when he could hear his captor not far behind him. His shoulder was protesting every movement, and he could feel his shirt getting soaked with blood. Yuuri’s legs felt like jelly under him, burning from his biggest burst of activity in months, but he knew he couldn’t stop.

It was funny how after he’d resigned himself to dying out here, he was now fighting harder than ever. Somehow, he’d managed to get the advantage over James, and he couldn’t waste that opportunity. He’d get out. He’d get Victor out.

_ Victor _ .

Yuuri skidded to a halt as he realized he wasn’t just running away from James, he was running away from Victor. He had crossed into the line of trees lining the property, ones that looked like they went on for miles. He was already shivering with cold, adrenaline, and exhaustion, and his shoulder was throbbing painfully. He had been so busy focusing on getting away from James, he hadn’t had time for any logical thoughts. Where was he going to go dressed in athletic clothes and a pair of ice skates? How was he going to find his way out of this maze of woods, and then how would he find his way back to Victor to save him? He couldn’t leave Victor behind. 

Hearing James’s ragged breathing behind him, Yuuri turned to face him. James saw the movement, and slowed from an uneven sprint to a limping walk. Drops of blood were littering the snow around him, his face half obscured by the fresh wound from Yuuri’s skates. His left eye was closed, and Yuuri wasn’t sure if it was because of the blood dripping into his eye, or because his eye had been injured in Yuuri’s attack. Yuuri really hoped it was the latter. 

They stared each other down for a few moments. Yuuri let the silence stretch on, hoping that the longer James stood there, the weaker he’d get as he lost more blood. Finally, James tightened his grip on his knife, which was still dripping with blood, adding to the growing puddle in the snow. “There’s nowhere to run,” he spat. “Nothing but Russian wilderness for miles. You’ll freeze before anyone finds you.” 

Yuuri glared at his captor. “It would be better than spending another minute here with you.” 

Predictably, James snarled in response. He stalked toward Yuuri, raising the knife. Yuuri braced himself, feeling his muscles coil as he prepared to defend himself. This was his only chance. He had to overpower James so he could get back to Victor. He knew James must have a car. James left the house to get food and supplies, he had to. Yuuri had noticed fresh produce sitting on the counter in the kitchen, there had to be some kind of civilization nearby. If he could knock James out or...more...he could run back to the house, let Victor out, and find the keys. 

James reached him surprisingly fast, slashing with the knife. Yuuri kicked out in response, but this time he only grazed James’s knee. Yuuri saw the knife coming at him, so he raised his arm to protect his face. His face was spared, but he felt the bite of metal against the skin of his arm. James drew back, slashing at Yuuri again. Yuuri kicked out in response and was able to make contact this time, but the angle was awkward, and he didn’t seem to do more than push James slightly off balance. It changed the angle of James’s attack, and Yuuri heard the knife whizz past his ear. All of the hair on his neck stood on end. 

They were both breathing heavily, but Yuuri was shaking far more than James. Underneath the blood, he did look quite pale, so Yuuri hoped he’d be able to outlast his attacker. He didn’t know how much stamina he had, with no fat reserves and a lack of exercise, but he hoped it would be enough. James swung his arm again, this time in a stabbing motion. He caught Yuuri in the same shoulder, just under the first wound. Yuuri screamed in pain as James dragged the knife downward, cutting through flesh. 

It hurt like hell, but it meant that James was close enough for him to strike back at. Yuuri kicked as hard as he could, and James made a noise of surprise and pain as the blade of Yuuri’s skate dug into his abdomen. He pulled back, and Yuuri thought he might finally have an advantage, until a fist collided with his face. He wasn’t fast enough to stop it, and the blow left him dazed. That was all James needed to knock him onto the ground, climbing farther back onto Yuuri’s legs so he couldn’t wiggle them free this time. He leaned over Yuuri, pressing onto his injured shoulder. 

“You’re mine,” he snarled, before pressing down harder on the wound.

Yuuri screamed, flailing and trying to push James off. But he couldn’t. His muscles felt like they were on fire and he was sucking down air so fast it was making his lungs burn just as badly. He had no strength left to fight, and James seemed to realize it. 

“You are never getting away from me,” he promised, winding up for another blow. 

Yuuri kept struggling, not wanting to give the man the satisfaction of giving up. He closed his eyes though, not wanting to see the fist flying at his face. The blow hurt just as much as the previous one, but as his captor’s assault continued, he found himself getting more and more numb, until he couldn’t feel anything except the cold. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Blood, major character injury, psychological trauma


	9. Defiance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri faces the consequences of his escape attempt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See bottom for CW
> 
> Wow, we're at the last chapter of part 1! Part 2 is in progress so keep an eye out for that. Thank you everyone who encouraged me and left comments/kudos. I'm behind on replying to comments but I read every single one and I really appreciate it. This fic almost got dumped because I thought no one would read it so knowing how many people have been looking forward to the resolution has been amazing.

Yuuri was floating. At least, it felt like he was as he moved impossibly smooth across the ice. Every jump felt like he was flying, every spin like he was whipping up gale-force winds. Yuuri’s family cheered from the stands and he waved at them. They were all there; mom, dad, Mari, the Nishigoris, Minako. They waved and shouted their love to him. Phichit was there, grinning like an idiot next to a scowling Yuri. Chris stood between them, blowing kisses. Celestino waved (had he been there the whole time?), shouting his trademarked “ciao ciao!” from the audience, and Yuuri laughed. And then there was Mila, her hair standing out like a fiery beacon, with Georgi sitting next to her, waving just as enthusiastically. Yakov and Lilia were there too, nodding in solemn approval. 

It was...almost everyone. Someone was missing, but Yuuri couldn’t figure out who. So he kept skating, landing all of his jumps, and gliding through his step sequences. The spotlight was on him, but he wasn’t nervous. He just knew that everything would be alright when...something happened. He was waiting for something. For someone. 

Yuuri skated on, landing a perfect quad flip. The audience cheered, the roars of a full arena echoing around him. People were cheering, calling his name. And then, he turned, and there  _ he  _ was. Victor was skating toward him, the arena lights reflecting off his silver hair. He was wearing his  _ Stammi Vicino  _ costume. 

Of course he was, that’s why he was here. How could Yuuri have forgotten? They met in the middle and suddenly, Yuuri was wearing the same costume, but in blue. No, he’d been wearing that since the beginning, hadn’t he? They danced across the ice together, landing jumps side by side. Victor lifted him effortlessly, laughing with mirth as he set Yuuri gently back on the ice. Their faces were close, their hands brushed each other, and Yuuri felt warm all over. Victor was smiling at him, looking tender. 

And then, the dance stopped. Victor held him in the final position, their lips just inches apart. Yuuri leaned in to close the distance, and Victor’s warm hands suddenly turned cold, biting into his arm. He dropped Yuuri, and Yuuri hit the ice. Hard. The wind was knocked out of him, and then suddenly, the lights were no longer warm and welcoming, they were harsh, and too hot. They were melting the ice, and Yuuri couldn’t get away. He tried, but the water kept rising around him. 

Victor was screaming, calling his name, but Yuuri couldn’t see him. All he could see was darkness, and all he could feel was cold. The water rushed around him, filling his mouth, his nose, his lungs. He was drowning. Victor was still calling his name. Yuuri was flailing, desperately trying to find the source of that voice, to find Victor, but the water was starting to freeze again. It started at his legs, and crept up his body. He was panicking. Yuuri was so cold, and he couldn’t breathe. It was getting harder and harder to move his body. The fight left him, and Yuuri felt the ice encase him, sealing his fate. He closed his eyes, drifting, until a voice broke through the haze. 

_ “Don’t leave me.”  _

Yuuri knew that voice. It was Victor, sounding close, and desperate. He opened his eyes, forcing his body to move. 

_ “Please Yuuri.” _

He wanted to call out, to tell Victor he heard him, but his voice failed him. So he struggled, yanking his limbs free of the ice that had claimed him. It was water now, and he was clawing his way toward the surface. He could see a light above him, and Yuuri knew that’s where Victor was.

_ “Come back to me.” _

Yuuri frantically reached toward the surface, the light getting closer and closer, until he broke through with a strained gasp. 

And then, everything hurt. The light above him was now dim and flickering, no longer a bright spotlight. Every breath was agonizing, and when he tried to move, his muscles protested painfully. 

“Take it easy,” a voice said. 

The voice was warm, and familiar. And terrified. Yuuri tried to think, but even thinking hurt. He knew he should know where he was, but his surroundings were just dark and blurry, and it was so hard to keep his eyes open. So Yuuri didn’t. He let his heavy eyelids fall, fading out of consciousness again.

Yuuri entered a cycle of wake, sleep, wake, sleep. He didn’t know how long it went on. Sometimes, when he woke up, he’d hear the same voice. Other times, he’d feel hands. He didn’t know if the hands were always the same, because sometimes they were gentle, and sometimes they were rough. He really didn’t know anything that was going on, he just knew that he was hurting.

One time when Yuuri opened his eyes, there was a figure leaning over him. Everything around the person was blurry, and their face didn’t come into focus until they leaned in close. It was Victor, looking down at him, his face twisted with worry. Yuuri tried to reach out, wanting to reassure him, but when he tried to move his arm, pain shot through him. He cried out.

Victor’s face grimaced in sympathy. “You need to stay still,” he insisted. Yuuri was too tired, and too painful to protest, so he just closed his eyes and listened to Victor murmuring soothing words to him until he lost consciousness again.

The next time Yuuri awoke, there was someone else there. He could feel rough hands on him, and a low voice murmuring something near his ear. It felt wrong. The voice was making his skin crawl, and the hands were gripping too hard. He tried to pull away.

“Don’t move around,” the voice commanded, and Yuuri froze. He knew that voice. It brought back a rush of memories:

_ Cold. Blood. Pain. _

Yuuri opened his eyes, and looked up into the face of his captor. James was leaning over him, changing a bandage on his arm. His own face was sporting a line of fresh stitches from his forehead to his chin, crossing his left eye. Or at least, where his left eye should be. There was a bandage in its place. Yuuri wasn’t sure if he should feel pleased or horrified by what he had done. 

“There. All clean,” James said, patting the bandage down. He turned to look at Yuuri, smiling darkly. “Wouldn’t want any of these to get infected.” 

Yuuri didn’t respond, taking shaky breaths that hurt his lungs. He shifted around uncomfortably on the cot. Why did it hurt so much to breathe? Why was he sore everywhere? James kept smiling at him, and all of Yuuri’s instincts were torn between wanting to run, and wanting to curl up into a ball and hope James went away. Unfortunately, he could do neither. He just stared up at James, feeling cold with terror. 

“You seem more lucid now,” James commented. “The last few times I was here you just kept screaming for Victor. It was quite annoying.” He stood up, dusting himself off and gesturing to Victor, who was at his spot on the adjacent wall. “You should thank him, he’s the reason you’re alive. I thought about letting you die after that shit you pulled,” he said nonchalantly. 

Yuuri watched James as he moved around the room, following him with his eyes. He wasn’t doing anything particularly threatening, but Yuuri still didn’t want to let the man out of his sight. James just kept smiling, a sickly sweet expression on his face. Yuuri thought about feigning unconsciousness to make James leave, but he was terrified that James would know he was faking and get mad. He really didn’t want to make James mad ever again.

James didn’t bother sparing either of them another glance as he walked toward the door. “Make sure you don’t forget his antibiotics,” James said just before he slammed the steel door behind him. The locks turned, and then the room was quiet, the only sound being the buzzing of the overhead lights. 

Victor let out an audible sigh, rushing to Yuuri’s side. “Are you ok?” He placed a gentle hand on Yuuri’s uninjured shoulder, rubbing his thumb in soothing motions.

“No,” Yuuri rasped. 

Victor nodded solemnly. “That’s to be expected.” He reached over Yuuri, grabbing a small pill bottle. “At least you’re awake now. I’ve been having to shove these down your throat.” 

“What…?” It was too much effort to say any more words. 

Victor smiled gently. “You’re wondering what’s going on?” 

Yuuri nodded. It was only a small movement, but it still hurt. 

“Well,” Victor started, “I suppose I should start from the beginning.” He frowned, his face taking on a dark expression. “I didn’t know what was going on. James brought you here, unconscious and bleeding. He was really angry, yelling a lot, stomping around.” Victor sniffled. “I thought you were dead.” 

“I…”

Victor squeezed his shoulder. “It’s alright. You don’t need to speak.” 

Yuuri nodded gratefully. His throat felt raw and his chest was aching, so he appreciated Victor taking the lead. 

“Anyway. James looked really bad too, he was bleeding everywhere and his eye was…” Victor shuddered. “It was not good. I’ll leave it at that.” He shuddered. “He didn’t seem to know what to do with you. He was so mad, but he didn’t want to let you go. I told him...well, he decided he wanted you to live.”

Yuuri made a mental note to ask what Victor had told James. He’d been curious since James said that Victor convinced him to keep Yuuri alive. 

Victor continued, “He told me what to do, how to stabilize you. He had some medical supplies in the house, some bandages and fluids.” Victor gestured to the small set-up next to Yuuri. Yuuri hadn’t even noticed the IV line in his arm, nor the bag tied to a low hanging pipe. “He told me to clean you up with something, some kind of antiseptic, I don’t know what it was. Then he had me bandage you. He put the fluid line in, then disappeared. When he came back, he had stitches and bandages on his face, and some medications that he told me to give you. Then he stitched up your big wounds.” 

Yuuri took in all of the information. James had kept him alive, and Victor had nursed him back to health. 

Apparently, there was more to the story, because Victor only paused for a moment to let Yuuri process, before he started again. “I don’t know how he got everything, but he had some antibiotics for you to prevent infection. He told me to make you take them, and had me change your bandages and keep your wounds clean. He comes down and does it sometimes, and changes the fluid bag when it’s empty, but mostly he just has me do it.” Victor squeezed Yuuri’s shoulder a little harder. “I’m just so relieved that you’re alive. There were times I didn’t know if you would make it. Do you remember what happened?”

Yuuri stiffened. He remembered everything. He remembered skating, and the woods, and what came after. He remembered being dragged back to the house and...Yuuri started sobbing. He didn’t want to think about that ever again. 

Victor made a soothing noise. “Sorry. You don’t ever have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” He gently wiped the tears from Yuuri’s cheeks. 

Yuuri reached over, using his good arm, and grabbed Victor’s hand. He knew he didn’t have much grip strength at the moment, but he used everything he had. “Don’t…” It was hard to get the words out, but Yuuri forced himself to speak. “Don’t...leave...me…” 

Victor changed his grip so their fingers were intertwined. “Never,” he promised, squeezing Yuuri’s hand.

After that, it was hard for Yuuri to stay awake. He lost consciousness again, and started into a new sleep-wake cycle. When he was awake, he was at least aware of his surroundings. Victor helped him to the toilet, shyly explaining that he’d been helping Yuuri when he was awake before. Yuuri was grateful that he didn’t remember, but it didn’t make it any less awkward now. 

Yuuri was completely dependent on Victor’s care. Victor helped him sit up to eat, and then helped feed him and let him drink. The first time Victor offered food he wanted to vomit, but Victor insisted that he needed to eat something. It was just a small amount of tomato soup, but it still made his stomach churn. He guzzled down water the first time Victor held a cup to his lips, spilling all over his clothes. He immediately felt guilty, since he didn’t know if James was going to withhold their water ration in response to Yuuri’s escape attempt, like he did before. 

Victor also kept tending to his wounds. He was always gentle, and careful, trying not to jostle Yuuri too much. James was much less cautious. He didn’t care when he squeezed too hard, or pushed on one of Yuuri’s many injuries. He was even rough when he removed the IV catheter, yanking it out of Yuuri’s arm without warning. Fortunately, he didn’t come often, but when he was there, it made Yuuri’s heart race with panic. He’d just keep his eyes glued to Victor’s back while he stood hunched in his assigned spot against the wall. James brought his glasses back one day, muttering irritably about how he’d had to dig them out of the snow. Yuuri accepted them graciously. They were a little scratched, but still in pretty good shape.

Fortunately, James was generous with the food and water. Victor said it was probably because he knew Yuuri needed proper nutrition to get better, but it didn’t make either of them less worried about their food supply suddenly being taken away. They stockpiled some of their meals, just in case, keeping a few non-perishable items tucked away. 

The first time Yuuri was able to sit up on his own, Victor cheered. Yuuri chuckled, almost feeling startled at the foreign sound. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed. “It’s not that much of an achievement,” Yuuri insisted. 

“I disagree. It means you’re getting better!” Victor said brightly, bringing over a bowl of chicken and vegetable soup. Yuuri had been eating a lot of soup lately, probably because it was low effort to eat. Victor sat on his own cot, which had been moved next to the wall right alongside Yuuri’s. It was the only way Yuuri could sit up; he couldn’t stay upright without leaning on the wall. Victor scooped up a spoonful, offering it to Yuuri.

“Could I try holding the spoon? I don’t think I can hold the bowl and lift the spoon, but I think I can do one,” Yuuri said confidently. 

Victor hummed in contemplation. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to overexert yourself.”

Yuuri scoffed. “It’s a spoon, I think I can handle it.”

Victor looked hesitant, but agreed. “Alright.” He set the spoon down.

Yuuri reached over, grasping the spoon between shaky fingers. The one brightside was that his shoulder was injured on the same side as his hand, so Yuuri had already adjusted to using his non-dominant side. It took significant effort, but he was able to lift the spoon to his lips. He did spill a bit, because his whole arm started to shake, but he managed to feed himself while Victor held the bowl. 

“This is pathetic,” Yuuri complained, setting the spoon down after dropping a piece of chicken on his lap.

“It’s not,” Victor insisted. “You were badly injured, and you haven’t been able to use any of your muscles in a long time.” 

“How long do you think it’s been? Since I got back?” 

Victor shook his head. “I’m not sure. I don’t even know how long it’s been since either of us got here.” 

Yuuri bit his lip. “I do.” 

Victor looked away. “I’d rather not know.” 

“I know.” Yuuri picked the spoon up again, wanting to end the uncomfortable conversation. He managed to finish the bowl, though he spilled a little more. “Can I ask you something?” 

Looking grateful about the change of subject, Victor replied, “Of course.”

“You said you convinced James to keep me alive. How?” 

Victor seemed surprised to hear him ask. “I just reminded him how beautiful your skating is. Told him that it would be a crime if he never got to see it again.” 

That was not what Yuuri was expecting to hear. “What? Really?” 

“Yeah,” Victor confirmed. “He was conflicted, but he caved when I started talking about your step sequences.” 

Yuuri didn’t know what to say. It was hard enough to thank his idol for complimenting his skating, but thanking his friend for saving his life was even more difficult. “Victor...thank you. For saving my life. And taking care of me. I don’t think I can even say thank you enough.” 

“Of course, Yuuri. I think you saved me too, you know. I hate that you’re down here but...I’m glad I’m not alone,” Victor admitted. 

“Yeah, at least we’re together,” Yuuri agreed. 

Victor smiled, then reached out to take the bowl away, setting it in their dirty dishes pile. “I think there’s a clean pair of pants, if you want to change.” 

Yuuri nodded. He was grateful that the motion no longer made his head feel like it was going to explode. “Yeah, that’d be great. In the future we could put this pair over me like a towel to catch anything I drop.”

“Good idea,” Victor commented, padding away to pick up a new pair of pants from their clothes pile. He returned quickly, gingerly pulling Yuuri’s old pants off. After everything they'd been through together, Yuuri couldn’t find the will for this to feel awkward. Instead, he just felt grateful to have Victor here to help him. Victor worked slowly, trying not to move Yuuri too much. His legs were in pretty good shape, but too much movement anywhere made his chest hurt. The two of them had decided that Yuuri likely had a few broken ribs, and that’s why he was in so much pain. 

Once the new pants were on, Victor tucked the old pair under Yuuri’s cot. Yuuri studied him. Victor looked even paler than ever, the dark circles under his eyes a stark contrast to his ghostly skin. Yuuri’s injuries had been hard on them both. “I’m sorry,” Yuuri said quietly. After hearing what Victor had done for him, Yuuri felt even guiltier about what he'd done. 

Victor looked up at him. “For what?”

“For trying to escape again, even though I promised I wouldn’t.” Yuuri sniffled, but didn’t cry. He didn’t think he had any tears left. 

Victor fidgeted nervously. “I wish you hadn’t.” All traces of his earlier affection were gone, replaced by wariness. 

“So do I,” Yuuri admitted. His act of defiance hadn’t been worth it. He was back here, and now he’d probably made his captivity infinitely worse for himself. James seemed to be giving Victor a lot of trips upstairs lately, possibly to remind Yuuri what he was missing. Yuuri did occasionally think about how much he enjoyed his warm shower, but mostly, he missed Victor. Every time James took Victor upstairs, he started panicking. Without Victor, the room was suffocating. He started to wonder if this is what Victor felt before Yuuri was here, because Yuuri was starting to understand why Victor talked to himself and paced so much. The room was too quiet, too lonely. Yuuri had grown used to Victor’s constant presence and care, and he couldn’t stand to be without him. Plus, with Victor gone, Yuuri was stuck on his cot with nothing to do. It wasn’t like he could get up and walk around.

Sometimes, it was even too hard for Victor to cross the room. Yuuri had a panic attack once when Victor spent too long bathing, because he wasn’t visible behind the makeshift curtain they’d put up. Victor took it down without a second thought, not caring about being nude in front of Yuuri. Yuuri had been far too relieved about seeing Victor again to have any thoughts about how his long time idol was naked in front of him.

“I’m scared,” Victor confessed. “I keep waiting for him to do something to us like last time.” 

“Me too,” Yuuri agreed. He kept hoping that his injuries were punishment enough. James hadn’t mentioned any other kind of retribution, and he was no longer grumbling every time he checked on Yuuri. Granted, Yuuri no longer needed such intensive care since he didn’t need bandage changes or constant fluid infusions, but James seemed happier in general. 

Victor looked at him sadly. “You promised. You promised you wouldn’t try again.” 

Yuuri was tempted to close his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see Victor’s hurt expression, but he forced himself to look. He had done this, he needed to own up to it. “I know. I’m sorry. If you want to yell at me, go ahead. I deserve it.”

Victor sighed. “I can’t be mad at you. Not when you almost died.”

“If you want to be mad--”

“I don’t  _ want  _ to be,” Victor clarified. “We only have each other down here, we shouldn’t fight. But even if I did want to be, I couldn’t. Every time I look at you, I’m just so relieved that you’re alive. There’s no room for anger.” 

Yuuri held out his hand, and Victor reached out in response, intertwining their fingers. “I’m still sorry. I just...I got so angry about the way he was talking about me, and I just felt like I needed to do  _ something _ . And I...I…” 

Yuuri started shaking, the unwanted memories flashing in his mind. The cold ice under his back, the sharp pain of the knife, and the blood, so much blood. Yuuri closed his eyes, taking gasping breaths. It hurt, forcing his injured rib cage to expand so much. 

Victor was well versed in Yuuri’s panic attacks now, especially since he’d been having so many lately. He sat down next to Yuuri on his cot, getting as close as he could. Normally, Victor would hold him tight in his arms, but that wasn’t an option with his injuries. Instead, Victor had taken to rubbing his back and his good arm, speaking calmly. 

“Breathe with me, listen to my voice,” Victor murmured gently.

Normally, this approach worked. But this time, the panic attack was so bad, Yuuri couldn’t respond. He couldn’t focus on Victor’s breathing, or his words, because all he could see and hear were vivid memories. 

He was in the woods, and he was fighting, kicking out at James. He could feel the cold seeping into his bones. Yuuri flailed as James took a step toward him. He screamed, kicking and writhing as hard as he could, trying to push James back. James grabbed his arm, and Yuuri kicked as hard as he could. He felt his foot make contact with something, but he didn’t stop screaming, even as the hands left him. Everything hurt, and he was so, so cold. 

Yuuri curled into a ball, grasping at his hair. He kept screaming, even after his throat felt raw and his voice was gone. He stayed curled up, shaking and sobbing, his knuckles white and his scalp burning from how hard he was gripping his hair. He was laying on his bad shoulder, and it was protesting every movement, as were his ribs. 

Slowly, Yuuri’s senses came back to him. He didn’t want to uncurl from his ball, but everything hurt too much to stay in that position. With a cry of pain, Yuuri stretched out, rolling over to the more comfortable position on his back. He was still shaking, and he felt weak, but at least he no longer felt like he was back in the woods with James. Yuuri looked around at his surroundings, reminding himself that  _ this _ was real. His eyes widened when they landed on Victor. 

Victor was sitting on the floor, shaking. He was clutching at his side, looking fearfully at Yuuri. Victor’s cot was pushed back and tipped on its side, like Victor had fallen into it. Yuuri realized that he probably did, because Yuuri had been writhing around and striking out against his invisible captor.

He swallowed hard. “Vic--” Yuuri started coughing, his throat completely ruined from his screaming fit. It was too hard to form words. 

Victor looked up at him, still looking afraid. “Yuuri…” 

Yuuri kept trying to form words, to tell Victor he was sorry, that it was an accident. His voice wouldn’t cooperate. He reached forward, but Victor flinched. Yuuri retracted his hand immediately. He looked down to where Victor was clutching his side, and realized that he must have hurt him. He’d hurt the only friend he had in this place, because he couldn’t keep his emotions in check. He continued to try to apologize, making rasping and wheezing sounds. Victor didn’t respond, frozen to his spot on the floor. 

Eventually, Yuuri gave up. He turned his head away from Victor, settling into his cot as comfortably as he could. His ribs were aching, and his mind was racing, so he knew he wouldn’t sleep, but he closed his eyes anyway so he wouldn’t have to see Victor’s terrified expression anymore. 

Yuuri had been correct in assuming that he wouldn’t sleep. He lay on his cot, spiraling back into fits of anxiety that weren’t as bad as his previous panic attack, but still left his heart thumping erratically. At some point, he heard Victor shuffling around, fixing his cot. Victor turned the light off and settled into bed. He didn’t say anything, and he didn’t move his cot back to Yuuri’s side.

What followed was the worst sleep Yuuri had since his first few nights here. He was so used to having Victor’s cot next to him, hearing his breathing, feeling his body heat, that this distance was unbearable. He felt like he needed to toss and turn, but he couldn’t even do that without his body protesting painfully. So he just stared up at the dark ceiling all night, whimpering into the darkness and trying to ignore the fact that he could hear Victor doing the same. 

He didn’t sleep at all, and the next morning, he felt completely drained. Victor got up and started going about his day without acknowledging Yuuri. It hurt worse than the pain in his chest, but Yuuri knew that it was his doing. If he hadn’t tried to escape, he wouldn’t be having these panic attacks in the first place. 

It only got worse as the day went on. Victor continued to ignore him, but Yuuri could see the man glancing at him all the time. Yuuri was able to sit up, but it hurt more than usual. He couldn’t do anything else, and was resigned to watching Victor purposefully ignore him. Yuuri still couldn’t speak, his throat somehow feeling worse than the previous night, and he was only capable of making pathetic raspy sounds. He couldn’t do anything, because he still couldn’t get up. At least he had Victor’s babbling to fill the silence. The chatter that he usually directed toward Yuuri was instead directed toward the otherwise empty room. Victor was speaking Russian, so Yuuri didn’t know what he was saying, but it was preferable to silence. It felt like when he had first gotten here and Victor spent more time talking to himself than Yuuri.

Yuuri kept hoping Victor would at least come by to help him get up and use the toilet, but he didn’t. He could ignore the empty feeling in his stomach, because he was used to that, but ignoring his bursting bladder was another matter entirely. He tried to get Victor’s attention, waving at him and attempting to call his name, but Victor kept looking away. He knew standing up was a terrible idea, but peeing his pants like a toddler sounded even worse, so he gritted his teeth and swung a leg over the side of the cot. 

He followed with the other leg, trying to move slow. Victor had his back turned to Yuuri, and he was grateful that no one was witnessing his pathetic attempt to stand. Using the wall to push off, Yuuri tried to stand up. He fell back instantly, his head bumping the wall. Yuuri tried again, and again, but he wasn’t having any luck. Finally, he summoned what miniscule strength he had, and pushed off hard from the wall. It was enough momentum for him to get to his feet, but his legs buckled underneath him immediately, and he dropped to the ground with a thunk. That caught Victor’s attention. He turned around, catching sight of Yuuri’s body splayed on the floor.

“Yuuri! What are you doing?” He rushed over to Yuuri, hesitating and stopping a few feet in front of him. 

Yuuri groaned, his ribs screaming at him from how he had landed. He raised a shaky arm, pointing toward the toilet. Victor followed the gesture with his gaze, then looked back at Yuuri with a guilty expression. 

“I’m sorry.” He reached forward, hesitated, then continued. Victor was trembling as he helped Yuuri off of the floor, but he didn’t let go.

Yuuri whimpered painfully as he got to his feet. Victor helped him to the toilet, letting him do what he needed to do with as much dignity as possible. Then, he led Yuuri back to his cot and helped him sit down. He took a step back, but didn’t run away again.

“I’m so sorry. You really scared me yesterday and I...I didn’t mean to leave you.” He wrapped his arms around himself.

Yuuri shook his head, hoping to convey that he wasn’t mad. He was exhausted, and distressed, but not mad. He reached out, offering his hand. Victor hesitated, but to Yuuri’s immense relief, he took it. Yuuri whimpered again, feeling a massive wave of relief wash over him. 

“I know you didn’t mean to but it really hurt when you kicked me and…” Victor squeezed Yuuri’s hand, falling to his knees. He was crying now, his whole body shaking. 

Yuuri wanted to tell Victor that he was sorry too, and that they were ok, but he couldn’t, so he just squeezed Victor’s hand in response. Victor smiled sadly at him, seeming to get the message. 

“I promise I won’t leave you. I...I’m still scared but I won’t distance myself like I was doing. I’m sorry.” 

Yuuri nodded in response, offering Victor a small smile. It was all he could manage, he was far too tired and upset to give him a real smile. Victor kissed his knuckles, as if he was trying to soothe the frayed bond between them. They sat like that for a while, until exhaustion finally overcame Yuuri, and he fell asleep. He didn’t know how long he was out but when he woke up, Victor was asleep in his cot. He was still a distance away from Yuuri, but he was closer than before. 

Victor continued to slowly close the distance between them. He moved his cot closer and closer, and checked on Yuuri with increasing frequency. He started talking to Yuuri again, chatting about everything and nothing. Yuuri welcomed the return to normalcy, feeling particularly relieved the night Victor pushed his cot up against Yuuri’s and fell asleep with their hands still intertwined. 

In the meantime, Yuuri continued to heal. He still couldn’t move well, but he could stand on his own, albeit on very shaky legs. Victor still had to help him get around, but he was starting to be able to do things more independently. He could hold his dish and utensils by himself, and sit up completely unaided. Victor was even helping him take a few steps on his own. He felt like a baby taking their first steps, but he had to admit that he was glad to be able to walk again. His muscles were going to need to be built up, but at least he could stand without tipping over. 

“Alright, can you take a few more?” Victor asked, standing a few feet in front of Yuuri with his arms open. 

Yuuri was dripping with sweat from the exertion, but he wanted to make Victor proud, so he nodded. He was leaning heavily on the wall, but he managed to take another step forward. It still hurt, but the pain was starting to fade more into a dull ache than a sharp pain. 

“Come on, Yuuri!” Victor encouraged. 

Yuuri took a few more steps, faster than he should have. He stumbled, and felt himself falling forward. Victor was there, catching him before he hit the ground and holding him securely. Yuuri looked up at him gratefully, using Victor’s arm to pull himself back into a normal standing position.

“I think that’s all I have,” Yuuri admitted, breathing heavily. “Can you help me back to the cot?” He hated spending all his time sitting around, but it wasn’t like he had any other options. “And maybe bring me a book?” 

“Of course,” Victor responded, rearranging his arms so he was supporting Yuuri enough to walk. “Are there any you haven’t read?” 

“I don’t think so,” Yuuri said, shaking his head. “I don’t care what you bring me, I just want something to do.” 

“Understandable. How about--”

Victor was cut off by three knocks on the door. Both of them froze. Yuuri looked up at Victor, seeing his own terror reflected on Victor’s face. Victor continued to guide him back to the cot, moving faster now. Yuuri couldn’t quite keep up, stumbling and whimpering in pain as Victor’s speed became too much for him. Victor looked at him apologetically, but kept rushing him back to the cot. 

They both flinched as the metal slat opened, and Victor doubled his efforts to get Yuuri back. He was trying to be gentle, but his hands were shaking and they were both in such a hurry that Yuuri fell clumsily onto the cot, crying out in pain. Victor murmured apologies while he frantically helped Yuuri into a more comfortable position, then pulled away as soon as Yuuri was settled. He almost tripped as he jogged to his position at the wall. Yuuri could see Victor trembling and breathing heavily as he settled into his spot.

The metal slat closed, making them both wince at the screeching sound of metal on metal. Then, the locks were being turned in a familiar pattern, and the door swung open. Yuuri tried to keep his eyes on Victor, even as he saw James moving toward him out of the corner of his eye. Yuuri flinched as James walked over to the cot and knelt down, reaching out toward Yuuri.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” James scolded, as if he was talking to a child.

Yuuri swallowed hard, still focusing on Victor. 

James got to work, looking over Yuuri’s wounds. He pulled Yuuri’s collar down, studying the wound on his shoulder. “They look pretty good considering I’ve never stitched anyone up before.” He ran his fingers over the healing wound, making Yuuri shudder. Yuuri could swear he was feeling phantom pains everywhere James touched him. 

The wound on James’s face was healing too, although he had a much neater looking wound than Yuuri did. It was still bright pink, not yet fading into a pale streak, but it looked like it was healing without complications. Yuuri wondered about the other wounds on his abdomen and side, but he wasn’t going to ask. James was also wearing an eyepatch, which Yuuri took to mean that his eye hadn’t been salvageable. 

James looked him up and down, frowning. “I thought you’d be walking more by now. I didn’t break your legs or anything.” He smiled darkly. “I wouldn’t do that. It’d be a crime if you couldn’t skate anymore.” 

Yuuri tried to ignore the prodding, but James was poking at his injured ribs, making him flinch and whine from the pain. 

“I had a broken rib once. A prop fell on me during a dance number in high school. Hurt like hell,” he said thoughtfully. “The doctors told me I needed to walk around to keep the mucus from building up in my lungs. I could move around just fine.” He cocked his head. “So what’s wrong with you?” 

Yuuri glanced at James, and realized that it wasn’t a rhetorical question. The man was looking at him expectantly. Yuuri gulped. “Um,” he said shakily. “I don’t know. It’s just been hard to walk, and everything hurts.” 

James hummed in contemplation. “I guess you did go through a lot.” A dark look crossed his face. “But I’m sure you’d never do anything to deserve that ever again, right?”

Yuuri shook his head frantically. “No! Never!” 

“That’s what I thought,” James responded, patting Yuuri’s arm. “Well, you’re healing slowly, but you’re healing.” He stood up, seeming satisfied with Yuuri’s progress. He turned to look at Victor. “Let’s go, Victor.” 

Yuuri barely suppressed a whine. James was taking Victor again. He was going to be alone again. Victor complied, approaching James with his head low and his eyes averted. Yuuri couldn’t help but think that he looked like Makka after he yelled at her for chewing up his shoes. Victor knew the drill. He walked in front of James, stopping just outside the door. Yuuri locked eyes with Victor, not breaking eye contact until the steel door closed and the locks clicked into place. Yuuri was alone. 

He immediately burst into tears. Yuuri didn’t want to be alone in this dark, damp prison without Victor. It wasn’t like James taking Victor away was new, but it hadn’t gotten any easier. Even now that he was more independent, he was still so used to relying on Victor, and being around Victor, so it felt empty without him. Yuuri had nothing to do but wait, so that’s what he did. When the silence felt like it had become suffocating, Yuuri decided to try to get up. It was harder without Victor, but he was able to use the wall to push himself up. He took a few wobbly steps forward, using the wall to brace himself like he had been doing previously. He was already exhausted from his earlier exercises, and his chest was aching with every step, but the pain was at least distracting him from the emptiness of the room. 

It was inevitable when Yuuri’s muscles gave out. He’d barely done more than take a few steps in...a while. He didn’t know how long it had been, but it had been enough time for his wounds to start to heal. He collapsed in a heap, leaning his back against the wall, his whole body shaking. Yuuri pulled his knees up to his chest, which wasn’t particularly comfortable, but it made him feel more secure. He tried to focus on something, anything to make the time pass until Victor came back, but time seemed to be creeping by impossibly slow. He stared out the window, waiting for the night to turn back into dawn, but the sun wouldn’t rise.

At some point, Yuuri realized that he was crying, and screaming for Victor. He didn’t want to be alone anymore. What if Victor never came back? He needed Victor to come back! He needed Victor! What if James kept them separated forever? Was this his punishment? 

_ Victor. Victor. Victor _ .

Yuuri kept screaming, until his throat was raw, just like when he’d had his worst panic attack a while ago. It was hurting his chest to yell so much, but he didn’t care. He just needed Victor back. 

Three knocks rapped on the door, and Yuuri went silent. He tried to rise, to take himself back to the acceptable position on his cot, but his body failed him. He was weak and sore. He didn’t know how long Victor had been gone, but he hadn’t had anything to eat or drink the entire time, and he hadn’t moved from his curled up position. Yuuri tried again, his nails scrabbling at the wall to get a grip, but he slid down again. He ended up on his knees, panting and trembling. He couldn’t even crawl toward the cot, feeling too defeated. He didn’t know if it was physical exhaustion or mental exhaustion, but he was unable to move. Yuuri gave up, slumping forward as the slat opened. He barely had the energy to look up as the locks clicked, and the steel door swung open. 

Victor stepped into the room, his eyes widening as they landed on Yuuri. He waited until the door was closed behind him, then he sprinted over to where Yuuri was sitting in a heap. “Yuuri! What happened? Are you ok?” He held Yuuri, looking him over for injuries. 

Yuuri went limp in his grasp, his head falling onto Victor’s chest. Even if his throat didn’t feel like sandpaper, he didn’t have any energy to explain what he was feeling, so he just desperately clutched at Victor’s sweater. It was soft, obviously new, and Victor smelled like fresh soap and shampoo. Yuuri recognized the scent from his single experience upstairs. 

Victor held him carefully, rubbing his back and humming a low tune. “It’s alright,” he said softly. “I’m here. I’m back.” 

Yuuri clutched harder, a strangled cry escaping his lips. Victor just kept rubbing his back, letting Yuuri cry and gasp into his brand new sweater. He didn’t know how long they sat there, but at some point, Victor rearranged them so Yuuri was in his lap. 

_ Safe. _

He inhaled Victor’s scent, which was partially masked by the soap he’d used, but still there. It was familiar, and comforting, and immediately made his muscles relax. Victor was here. He was safe. 

Despite how exhausted he was, Yuuri couldn’t fall asleep. Victor did though, his head leaning on the wall, drool dripping out of the side of his mouth. Yuuri just kept clinging to him, focusing on the feeling of Victor’s chest moving against his. Yuuri wasn’t sure if he could handle James taking Victor again. Maybe he could beg, and James could take him too. He didn’t care about having a shower, or a hot meal, he just didn’t want to be away from Victor. Maybe if he let James tie his hands, he could just sit in the same room as them. Even if it was in the corner, even if they weren’t able to touch, he just needed to be able to see Victor. It wasn’t like he was in any shape to run away, anyway.

While Yuuri was musing, Victor stirred, snorting quietly as he woke. The ghost of a smile formed on his lips at the sound. Victor shifted beneath him, stretching his muscles. He must be sore after sitting like this for so long, Yuuri knew that his own muscles were already cramped. 

Victor started running his fingers through Yuuri’s hair, massaging his scalp. “Did you sleep at all?”

Yuuri shook his head. 

Victor sighed. “Did you eat or drink while I was gone?” 

Yuuri shook his head again.

“We should get you some food and water then.” He hummed contemplatively. “And maybe some bathing time? I think that might make you feel better.”

Yuuri nodded, willing to do anything as long as Victor didn’t leave again.

“Can you speak?”

Yuuri hesitated. His throat still felt rough, but he hadn’t tried. “...yes.” It barely came out as a ragged whisper. 

“That’s something, at least,” Victor replied encouragingly. “Ok, I’m going to get you up. I’m guessing you probably need to go to the bathroom too?”

Yuuri nodded, tightening his grip on Victor’s sweater as the other man moved to try and get up. 

“It’s alright, I won’t go anywhere. But I need to rearrange us so I can move you.” Victor let Yuuri hold on to him, helping him to his feet. Yuuri immediately slumped against him, letting Victor hold most of his weight up. Victor hooked an arm around Yuuri, letting him put a hand on the wall like they had done before. They took small steps, their progress slow. Victor only let go of Yuuri so he could use the toilet, then guided him over to their bathing area. He helped Yuuri take his clothes off, then sat him down on a towel so he didn’t have to sit bare on the cold floor. Victor had helped bathe him many times with his injuries, but it felt different this time. It felt like they were reconnecting. 

Victor ran the washcloth over Yuuri’s arm, pausing at the scar over his shoulder. He leaned in and kissed the mark. “I didn’t want to leave you,” Victor said as he leaned back. 

“I know,” Yuuri rasped, sighing contentedly at the contact. He did. He knew Victor didn’t have a choice when he went with James. 

Victor dipped the rag in the bucket, squeezing out the excess water. He continued to run the washcloth over Yuuri’s skin, getting the first layer of grime off. It was just as cold as always, but it felt nice to get the dirt off. 

“Have I ever told you the butter story? About Makkachin?” Victor asked.

The answer was yes. Victor had told this story multiple times during one of his babbling episodes. He never seemed to remember what he talked about. His eyes glazed over, and he would repeat stories, even using the same hand gestures. That was how Yuuri knew that Victor also told this story in Russian and French. He didn’t want to tell Victor this though, and he honestly didn’t care what Victor talked about, as long as Yuuri could hear him nearby. So he said, “No.” 

Victor smiled gently. “I was baking, so I put a stick of butter out on the counter to let it thaw.” He added soap to the washcloth, running it over Yuuri’s body again. “Yakov called me, and was yelling at me about something, I don’t remember what. But he kept talking and talking, and wouldn’t let me hang up the phone.” Victor chuckled, gently moving the rag over Yuuri’s face. “I tried. He just kept calling me back. I almost blocked him.” He kept cleaning Yuuri, moving to his feet and scrubbing a little harder to get the dirt off. Yuuri had to stifle a giggle as Victor worked at one of his ticklish spots. “So I finally got Yakov to leave me alone, and I went back into the kitchen to keep baking. I had all of the ingredients together, except I couldn’t find the butter. I thought maybe I forgot to take it out, or I put it somewhere weird--you know how forgetful I am.” 

Yuuri managed a small huff of laughter at that statement. He closed his eyes as Victor lifted the bucket to dump water over his head. It wasn’t much, just enough to get his hair damp so Victor could work soap in it. Yuuri shuddered. Even if he was used to the temperature, having a cold bucket of water dumped over his head was never pleasant. 

Victor continued his story as he worked soap into Yuuri’s hair, massaging his scalp like he’d been doing before. “I looked everywhere for it. I did consider that Makka could have taken it, but I didn’t see a wrapper, and she wasn’t licking her lips, so I didn’t think it was her. I practically tore my kitchen apart looking for it.” 

Victor lifted the bucket again, giving a warning so Yuuri could close his eyes. He poured the water, rinsing the soap from Yuuri’s hair. There would probably be residual soap, as there always was, but it still felt nice to be clean. They couldn’t afford to use all of their bathing water by giving themselves a thorough rinse. Although, Yuuri did notice that Victor seemed to use a little more water than usual. 

“I finally gave up, and went to sit on my couch to think about where else I might have put it. I started to wonder if I imagined buying it!” He chuckled, grabbing another towel so he could dry Yuuri off. “As soon as I sat down, I felt something cold and squishy. I got up immediately and looked down, and there was my stick of butter!” Victor towled Yuuri’s hair. “Makka had buried it in my couch, that bad girl!” 

Yuuri chuckled. He genuinely enjoyed the story, even if he’d heard it before. He smiled appreciatively at Victor. 

Victor returned the smile, but looked a little sad. “I don’t think you have any clothes cleaner than these,” he said, gesturing to the pile on the floor. “But here, you can have my sweater. It’s new, I just took the tag off yesterday.” 

Yuuri tried to protest, but Victor was already pulling the sweater over his head and then gently putting it on Yuuri. Victor had a plain t-shirt underneath, which also looked new. He had to admit, it was a very soft, comfortable sweater. It was less comfortable putting his old clothes back on, but Victor was right; these were the cleanest. 

“I had a shower and a clean pair of clothes upstairs, you can use my portion of the laundry water to wash some of these later, if you want.” 

Yuuri nodded. It would be nice to have semi-clean clothes. 

“Next, we should get you some food,” Victor announced, helping Yuuri to his feet. He guided Yuuri back to his cot, and sat the younger man down. Yuuri whimpered as Victor stepped away. “I’m just going to get something from our store,” Victor explained. Yuuri wasn’t happy about Victor walking away, but he handled it since he could still see Victor. 

Victor returned with an orange and some crackers. Yuuri ate them gratefully, then sucked down the water that Victor offered him in a cup. He put the cup down and asked, “How was it?” His voice was still barely a whisper. 

Victor paled, looking away from Yuuri. Yuuri frowned. That was not the reaction he expected. As much as Victor tried to downplay it to make Yuuri feel better, he knew that Victor enjoyed his time upstairs. 

“What?” Yuuri asked. 

Victor bit his lip, contemplating something. Finally, he said, “He...he told me things.” 

Yuuri gave him a questioning look. Victor was clenching his fists, still not looking Yuuri in the eyes. Yuuri reached out, placing his hand over one of Victor’s fists. Victor jumped, clearly startled out of his thoughts.

Swallowing hard, Victor continued. “He told me Yuri won the GPF. Almost broke my short program record, apparently.”

“Wow,” Yuuri responded. He wasn’t sure why this news was upsetting Victor so much. 

“James said…” Victor gulped. “He wants to add Yuri to his... _ collection _ next.” 

Yuuri felt like the air was punched out of him. “No…” he wheezed, looking at Victor with a panicked expression. 

“He told me all about it. How he convinced his boss to sponsor Yuri, how he plans to take him.” Victor shuddered. “He’s just a kid...and you know how he is. He’ll keep pushing James until he…” Victor shook his head, clearly not wanting to think about it.

Yuuri made a distressed noise. He knew what Victor was thinking about. If Yuuri had been this stubborn, Yuri would be even worse. The teen might never back down, getting himself, and probably Yuuri and Victor, hurt. And he was so young, he’d lose whatever childhood he had left to this place. Yuuri wanted to stop James, but he knew they were powerless. Victor, apparently, disagreed.

“We have to stop him,” Victor said firmly, much to Yuuri’s surprise.

Yuuri’s eyes widened, and he shook his head enthusiastically. He was done trying to go against James. He’d learned his lesson, and he thought Victor had too. “We can’t,” Yuuri rasped.

Victor put his hand over Yuuri’s, sandwiching his hand between Victor’s own. “I know you’re scared. I’m terrified too. But we have to do something.”

Yuuri shook his head again. “I promised you.” 

“I know you did,” Victor said sympathetically. “And I know I said I didn’t want to try and escape anymore, but I can’t sit by and just let him do this to Yuri.”

“No,” Yuuri said as firmly as he could manage, although it was still barely a squeak. 

“Yuuri, please,” Victor begged. “It’s Yuri. We have to.” 

Yuuri bit his lip. He thought about his prickly friend, how close they’d gotten. Yuri was feisty, but fiercely loyal to his friends. He’d been right alongside Yuuri, trying to prove that Victor was still alive. He’d taken Victor’s disappearance so hard, he couldn’t imagine how much harder it had gotten for him when Yuuri was taken. He didn’t want Yuri to go through this. He didn’t want  _ anyone _ to go through this, but especially not his young friend. Still, the thought of fighting James again made his blood run cold. He’d tried, and he’d paid for it. 

“I can’t,” Yuuri whispered. 

Victor looked disappointed, but responded, “I understand. And I know that I can’t say anything, since I’ve been the one telling you not to try and escape.” He smiled sadly. “I can’t sit by and do nothing, though. I’ve known Yuri since he was just a kid, he’s practically family. I won’t let James take him without a fight.” 

Yuuri nodded. “I understand too.” He really did, he just couldn’t fathom trying to go against James again. The thought was terrifying. And yet, when he thought about Yuri in this place, the feeling was equally as terrifying. He could almost picture the teen’s face, dirty and pale, his blond hair dull and jagged at the ends. Yuuri shook his head. No. He couldn’t fight James. He’d learned his lesson. He couldn’t go through this again. But...if he did nothing, would Yuri suffer this fate? Yuuri knew the answer was yes. James wouldn’t like Yuri’s attitude, and he’d waste no time trying to break him. 

Victor stood up, and Yuuri reached out and grabbed his wrist. It was probably a terrible idea that would end badly for them, but Victor was right. They couldn’t let James take Yuri without a fight. “What do you have in mind?” 

Victor smiled, his eyes sparkling more than Yuuri had ever seen. “I don’t know exactly, but if we work together, I think we can figure something out.” 

“How much time do we have?” 

“I think until the end of the season. He wants to see if Yuri will win Worlds.” 

“What month is it?”

Victor shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m not sure how far away that is.” 

“Maybe...next time you go upstairs, ask him about the current season?” 

Victor looked thoughtful, then nodded. “That’s a good idea. I don’t think it would be suspicious for me to be curious, especially about my rinkmate.” 

“Then what?”

With a shrug, Victor replied, “Then we at least know how much time we have. We could probably overpower him if we work together.”

Yuuri looked at Victor’s withered muscles, his sharp cheekbones. He felt his own ribs ache as he breathed. “I don’t know if we can,” he admitted. He gestured to himself. Even if Victor could fight him, Yuuri was in no shape to do the same.

Victor’s face fell. “Well...hopefully Worlds is still a ways away. Then you’ll still have time to heal. In the meantime, we should work on getting you stronger.” 

Yuuri nodded. “Ok.” He gulped. “But...if it’s later in the season?”

“I...don’t know,” Victor admitted. “I’ll fight him if I have to. Make him realize that taking Yuri will just cause trouble for him.” 

“Victor…” He didn’t like the idea of Victor putting himself in danger.

Victor patted his hand reassuringly. “I know.”

“I’m scared.”

“Me too.” He smiled gently. “I’m taking inspiration from you. You’ve been fighting so hard since we got here. I wish I had found my courage earlier.”

“I’m proud of you,” Yuuri said honestly. He never would have imagined that Victor would have initiated something like this. The man had been far too terrified to try anything when Yuuri got here. He was honestly still shocked that this was Victor’s idea, and it made him realize just how much Victor cared about Yuri. 

“Thank you,” Victor replied genuinely. “We should come up with a plan for how we’re going to take him down. Even if you are still recovering, you might be able to at least distract him.”

Yuuri nodded. “Ok.” He yawned, and Victor made a sympathetic noise.

“We can talk about this later. You must be exhausted. A few hours won’t make a difference”

“M’fine.” 

“No you’re not,” Victor insisted. 

Yuuri wanted to argue, but his body was achy and his eyelids were heavy, so he slid down onto his cot, rolling over so he could see Victor. Victor smiled at him, gently caressing his cheek. “Stay?” Yuuri asked, a little desperately. If Victor walked away, he didn’t think he’d be able to fall asleep.

Victor nodded. “Of course.” He laid down on his own cot, which was still right next to Yuuri’s. 

Yuuri sighed contentedly as Victor settled in, enjoying the familiar comfort of the other man’s body heat. Victor was a clingy sleeper, and Yuuri was used to it, but they didn’t usually start off cuddling, unless one of them needed comfort. Yuuri definitely did tonight, so he scooted as close to Victor as he could, which was as difficult as always on two small cots. They wrapped their arms around each other, getting as close as possible. Yuuri sighed, feeling relaxed for the first time since James had taken Victor upstairs. Victor murmured a quick “goodnight”, then Yuuri was out. 

He slept like a rock. Victor was still with him when he woke up, though he was scribbling something in a book. Yuuri hadn’t even realized they had a pen down here.

“Victor…” he mumbled sleepily.

Victor turned toward him, smiling. “Good morning, sleeping beauty.” 

Yuuri didn’t know if it was actually morning, but he chuckled at the name anyway. “G’morning. What’re you doing?”

“Writing down ideas. About how to take down James,” Victor explained.

Yuuri leaned over to look. It was all in French, so he couldn’t read it. He looked at Victor curiously. 

“James doesn’t know any French,” Victor explained. “He obviously knows English, and some Russian, so just in case he finds this, he won’t know what it says.” 

“Good idea,” Yuuri complimented. “Come up with anything good?”

Victor frowned. “Not really. Other than your idea to find out how much time we have, I can’t think of a way for us to be with him at the same time. The only time we’re both with him is when he comes down here, and he’s so cautious.” Victor tapped the pen on his chin, looking thoughtful. “Unless one of us jumps him, and then the other rushes over right away, but I think he’d probably be too fast with his knife.” 

“Probably,” Yuuri agreed, shuddering at the memory of what the knife felt like when it made contact. 

“I’ll keep thinking about it. You do the same,” Victor suggested. 

Yuuri nodded, then offered Victor a small smile. “Look at you.” 

“Hm?” 

“Being a rebel. I think I’m a bad influence,” Yuuri joked. His voice was still hoarse, but it was easier to speak than before he fell asleep. 

  
Victor chuckled. “I can hardly believe it myself. I meant it when I said I wasn’t going to try and escape again but…”

“But Yuri,” Yuuri finished for him.

“But Yuri,” Victor agreed. “The thought of fighting him still terrifies me. I was really anxious while you were asleep, but the thought of doing nothing makes me feel worse.”

“Agreed.” 

Victor sighed. “Now we just need to come up with a plan. How about we eat some food to help us think?”

“Ok,” Yuuri agreed, reluctantly letting Victor get up to grab some food. Yuuri kept his eyes on Victor the whole time, still too nervous to let him out of his sight. James had apparently brought food while he was asleep, much to Yuuri’s relief. Their store had been getting a bit low. Yuuri also realized that their captor had been very lax about making Yuuri go to his assigned wall spot lately. Maybe they could use that to their advantage. 

Victor came back with a bowl of soggy vegetables. “Sorry it’s not fresh, you really seemed like you needed the sleep.”

Yuuri nodded gratefully, taking the bowl from him. He took a bite, his nose wrinkling at the taste. He wasn’t quite sure what it was, but it was food. “Did you already eat?”

Victor nodded. “Yeah, and I put the crackers that came with it in our store.” 

“Good idea.” 

Victor kept chatting while Yuuri ate, bouncing more ideas off of him. They didn’t come up with anything solid, but they wrote their thoughts down in Victor’s book anyway. Their ideas didn’t improve as time passed, though neither of them knew how long it had been. Yuuri still wasn’t used to winter daylight hours in Russia, and it was so hard to notice what was happening outside the tiny windows, anyway. James hadn’t taken Victor upstairs in a while either. It made them nervous that he was starting to prep for his next abduction. In fact, James had been oddly absent in general. He’d dropped off more food and their ration of water, but he hadn’t checked on Yuuri or peeked in on them like he usually did. Both of them were on edge, expecting something horrible to happen.

Eventually, something did happen. Yuuri was holding Victor after a particularly nasty panic attack one night, rubbing his back soothingly, when the locks on the door started clicking. They both froze, looking at each other nervously, and curiously. James never opened the door without knocking and making sure they were both in their spots. For a moment, Yuuri had a spark of hope that it was someone coming to rescue them. But then, the door flung open, and James was staring at them, looking completely disheveled. His face was red, and his chest was heaving. Yuuri knew he and Victor were both staring back at him like a couple of deer in the headlights. This was totally outside James’s normal protocol. 

“Go to your spots!” He snarled. 

Victor complied immediately, shooting up from where he had been sitting on his cot and retreating to the wall. Yuuri briefly wondered if it was a wasted opportunity for an attack, but then he saw how furious James looked, and all rational thoughts flew from his head. The last time he saw that look was when he stared James down from across the ice. 

“What are you waiting for?!” He snapped at Yuuri.

Yuuri’s eyes widened. James hadn’t made him go to his wall spot in ages. He didn’t know why he needed to now, but James was clearly not in the mood to be questioned. Yuuri did as he was told, rising up from the cot and limping over toward the wall. He could walk on his own now, especially since he’d doubled his walking efforts to get stronger, but it was still painful and slow. 

“Hurry up!” James yelled impatiently.

Yuuri limped as fast as he could, almost stumbling into the wall. He peeked over at Victor as James rushed up behind him, watching his friend flinch as James grabbed his hands and yanked them behind his back. He started tying them, like he always did when he took them upstairs, but he was rushing. Yuuri didn’t know why they were in trouble, but clearly something was wrong.

James finished with Victor, not bothering to double check his work like he usually did. Instead, he immediately rushed over to Yuuri, and Yuuri shifted his gaze straight ahead, pretending that he wasn’t staring. James gave Yuuri the same treatment, yanking his shoulder in a way that made him hiss with pain. Once his hands were tied, James grabbed Yuuri’s arm with one hand, and Victor’s with the other. 

“Let’s go!” He said urgently, dragging them both along.

Yuuri tried to keep up, but he couldn’t. He kept stumbling and falling behind, his body protesting the quick movement. James just kept yanking on him, not stopping to let Yuuri get his balance. When Yuuri did fall, he kicked Yuuri in the gut out of frustration, then hauled him to his feet. It was a challenge, wading through the storage room while James was in a rush, but the three of them managed to get out. Even Victor was having a hard time keeping up with James and his frantic rush.

When they reached the stairs, James dragged them both, and Yuuri stumbled again. “For fuck’s sake, get up!” James growled, yanking on Yuuri’s bad arm hard enough to make him yelp. He got to his feet as fast as he could, shaking with fear. He didn’t know what was going on, and judging by Victor’s pale face, neither did his fellow prisoner. 

James managed to reach around them, forcefully opening the door. He guided them through the well-decorated hallway, to a door that Yuuri didn’t recognize. James opened that door too, and both Victor and Yuuri made noises of surprise as they were dragged outside into the snow. Neither of them were dressed for it. Yuuri still had Victor’s sweater on, no longer fresh and new, but it wasn’t thick enough to keep the chill away. Victor was just in a t-shirt, and neither of them were wearing shoes. Yuuri’s teeth chattered as the cold bit at his toes, water soaking through his socks. 

They were dragged to a car, which was already running. There were miscellaneous supplies piled in the front seat; food, a first aid kit, some electronics. Yuuri didn’t have time to see what else was there, because James yanked one of the rear doors open, shoving Victor inside and slamming the door. He dragged Yuuri around to the other side, doing the same. Then, he opened the trunk, threw something in and closed it, then jumped in the front seat. James took off immediately, the wheels briefly catching on the snow. 

James was swearing and ranting in the front seat, shooting irritated glares at the rearview mirror. “I don’t want to hear a sound from either of you, or see any movement. I’m not in the mood to play games. Do you both understand?!” 

“Yes,” Victor and Yuuri answered in unison, glancing at each other nervously. 

“Good. Now shut the fuck up, and behave.” James’s eyes returned to the road, though he kept glancing back at them. He gripped the steering wheel, making a noise of frustration. “I can’t believe this is happening! I was so careful!” 

Yuuri glanced over at Victor again, and they caught each other’s eye. The car was dark, but Yuuri could see Victor shifting around slightly. James didn’t seem to notice, because he didn’t say anything. Yuuri chanced a glance around, although it was too dark to see much. He could see that they were driving down a dark road, trees on either side of them. James was taking them somewhere. That must mean…

Yuuri’s eyes widened. Someone knew they were here. Someone was coming. Yuuri barely stopped himself from calling out to Victor. This was their chance. He had to tell Victor what he was thinking. 

Victor whined, and Yuuri’s eyes shot over to him. James snapped from the front seat, “I said not a sound!” 

Even though it was dark, Yuuri was able to make out the subtle gesturing of Victor’s head. He was gesturing downwards with his chin. Yuuri followed the path, trying to keep his head facing as forward as possible while he looked with his eyes. When Yuuri reached Victor’s hands, he almost gasped. Victor was untied. James must not have tied it tight enough, and he didn’t stop to double check like he usually did.

Yuuri looked back up at Victor’s face, nodding once in understanding. Victor returned the gesture, then turned his gaze forward. They waited for the right moment. Yuuri didn’t know what that moment was, or how they would signal it, but he had a feeling they would know it when they saw it.

And he was right. James put his full attention in front of him as they went around a turn and Victor yelled, “Now!” 

They both shot forward as James made a noise of surprise. Victor’s hands were free, so he reached over the seat and grabbed at whatever part of James he could get. Yuuri was still bound, and his ropes were tight, but he was able to launch himself forward and get into a position where he could bite James’s shoulder. He didn’t have a coat on to offer any protection, probably because he’d been in too much of a hurry to grab one. Yuuri tasted blood as he bit down as hard as he could. 

James shrieked as they attacked him, fighting to keep the car on the road as the two of them struggled against him. Victor had one hand on the wheel now, and Yuuri headbutted James as hard as he could. He saw stars when his head collided with James’s, but it did the trick. James lost control, and the car went into a spin. Yuuri was thrown back, and he saw the same thing happening to Victor, before the car smashed into a tree with a sickening crunch. The car’s momentum stopped, but Yuuri was sitting in the gap between the two front seats, so he kept going, smashing through the windshield. Fortunately, he missed the tree, but he rolled off the hood, hitting the ground hard. The wind was knocked out of him, and he felt his chest explode with pain. That couldn’t be good for his already injured ribs. Yuuri could feel cuts all over his body from the glass, and it felt like his nose was broken. He gasped for air, inhaling a mouthful of snow. 

Yuuri’s glasses had flown off  _ somewhere _ , so he couldn’t see anything clearly, but he could make out a slumped form in the front seat. There was no movement, and Yuuri feared the worst, until he saw someone stirring. He was hopeful, until he remembered who had been sitting in the front seat. 

_ James _ .

Yuuri tried to move, but with his arms bound, and his new injuries, it was a futile effort. He just writhed pathetically in the snow, groaning in pain. He heard the car door open, and James’s blurry form was stalking toward him, his gait unsteady. 

“You...you’re dead! You’re both dead!” Yuuri stared up at him helplessly. The only thing he could do was try and kick out when James got close and hope he landed a good hit. Only this time, he didn’t have his skates, and he was having a hard time staying conscious. 

James reached him, standing over him. Yuuri tried to kick out, but he knew he was barely making contact. James rolled Yuuri onto his back, and he was close enough that he could make out his form, including the knife he was raising. Yuuri kept desperately trying to kick at his attacker, but James wasn’t deterred. 

Yuuri closed his eyes, waiting for the final blow, but instead, he heard a shout, and a thunk. He opened his eyes in time to see Victor tackling James to the ground, trying to wrestle the knife from him. The car’s headlights were shining on them, and Yuuri could see that they were both injured and bloody. One of Victor’s arms was...not where it was supposed to be, and the entire right side of James’s face was covered in blood, a wound on his head leaking profusely. 

It was obvious that Victor couldn’t win this fight. He was weak from his captivity, and his arm was in bad shape. James was already getting the advantage. Yuuri was still struggling to stay conscious, but the adrenaline seemed to be keeping him awake. He managed to wiggle over to the struggling pair, biting down on James’s wrist, like he had done with his shoulder in the car. It was all he could do tied up like this. He tasted blood again, chomping down with all of his strength so he couldn’t use that hand to stab Victor. Victor saw his opportunity, doubling his efforts to grab the knife with his good hand. 

And then, Yuuri heard it. A sound that he never thought would fill him with so much relief: sirens. 

Yuuri wasn’t sure if he loosened his grip when he heard the sirens, or if the sound just gave James a second wind, but suddenly, Victor was thrown backwards, and an elbow collided with Yuuri’s face. Everything went black for a moment, and when Yuuri opened his eyes, he saw flashes of light, and Victor grabbing James’s ankle as he tried to run. Their captor fell forward, hitting the ground as a bunch of blurry lights and shapes surrounded them. 

He couldn’t tell what was going on now since his vision was blurred, either from a head injury or his lack of glasses. But there were voices. Voices were yelling in Russian, and he could hear snow crunching around them. The blurry struggle between James and Victor stopped, and a bunch of figures descended on James. Yuuri desperately tried to stay conscious. He wanted to see their captor get arrested, he wanted to know that he would be taken away. He just wished his vision was clear enough to see what was happening.

Another figure was kneeling beside Victor, saying something that Yuuri couldn’t understand. But he saw Victor move, so he knew the other man was ok. And then, the snow was crunching next to his head, and someone was speaking to him. He thought it might have been English, but his brain couldn’t process the words. There was frantic yelling, and then more crunching snow around him. Someone was shining a light in his eyes, putting hands on him. He felt his wrists get cut free, the rope sliding off of him.

The cold was really starting to get to him now, as it had totally seeped through his clothes. But he couldn’t focus on that, he could only focus on how much everything hurt, and how someone was taking Victor away. He couldn’t tell for sure, but Victor seemed to be looking at him. It took all of his strength, but he reached out. He didn’t know if his voice was working, but he tried calling Victor’s name. It looked like Victor tried to take a step toward him, but the blurry figure stopped him. Why did they stop him? Didn’t they know that they needed each other? 

Yuuri called out more desperately, starting to lose awareness of everything else around him. He thought he might be being carried, because the blurry trees were replaced by a blurry vehicle. There were more voices around him, and the distinctive smell that came with medical equipment. But Victor wasn’t here, where was Victor?

“I’m here, Yuuri, I’m here.” 

_ Victor _ . 

Had he said that out loud? It didn’t matter, Victor was here, somewhere. It was really hard to see now, with all the dark spots in his vision. But he could feel a warm hand in his own. That must be Victor. 

“We’re safe. We did it.” 

Yuuri wanted to respond, but it was too hard. There were so many voices, and beeping, and a rumbling sound, and he felt like he couldn’t talk over them. He didn’t know what was happening, but he’d occasionally see a figure leaning over him, or hear them saying something to him. He couldn’t understand anyone but Victor. He just needed Victor, and then everything would be ok. 

He must have blacked out, because the next time he was aware of his surroundings, he was looking up at bright lights and white walls. People were rushing around him, saying things that he still couldn’t understand. Someone said his name, he thought, but he couldn’t pinpoint where they were. All he could think about was how Victor’s hand wasn’t in his anymore. 

  
“Victor?” 

The voices said something, but none of them sounded like Victor.

“Victor!” He tried to move, to reach out to wherever Victor was, but something held him down. 

He didn’t know what was happening, or where he was. He just needed Victor. Yuuri was vaguely aware that he was screaming, and thrashing, his whole body wracked with pain. It didn’t matter; he just needed to find Victor. 

“Victor! Victor!” 

The voices said something else, there were more hands on him, and then Yuuri felt darkness overtake his vision. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not sorry
> 
> CW: Major character injury, panic attacks, flashbacks, mild blood, psychological trauma

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to hear if you want more of this story. I probably have 2/3 of the story written, so if there's interest I'll probably try to finish it up so I can get on a regular posting schedule. If not, I have other WIPs begging for my attention. If you made it this far, thank you for reading :)


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